I’ve been writing about rest, and even speaking about it, in some form or other since I began discovering the beauty, and the necessity, of it after a season of deeply painful burnout in 2018. I’ve always been a perfectionistic, people-pleasing, try-hard, do-er by nature, and have had to learn the hard way that continuing on without ever resting doesn’t actually work. This past year especially I have been learning in new and different ways about both the importance of rest, and the ways that the provision for rest may look incredibly different depending on your current season.
**Hint: Rest doesn’t always mean sleep.
**Double Hint: Rest sometimes feels really hard to get even when you know you need it, and this can be infuriating.
Whether it be the physical exhaustion that comes with intense seasons of caretaking, the body and soul heaviness of deep trauma or grief, chronic illness or debilitating insomnia, or simply misaligned habits for work/rest that have left you burnt out and exhausted—there are so many reasons why you too might need to come and live in the House of Rest for awhile. But once you are here, I hope you’ll see that it’s actually a safe place to return to, just as often as you need.
Obvious as it feels to say, we all need rest. And sometimes, trying to get that rest feels actually impossible.
This separate newsletter was born from my “Rest for the Sleepless” series I began on my regular page—but after three essays, I realize that I am nowhere close to running out of things to say. So if you aren’t done hearing me talk about rest either, I hope you stick around for this page, and we’ll see where it takes us. (You can manage your subscription settings and unsubscribe from this section of the newsletter at any time. A Crown of Flowers isn’t going anywhere, and it is where I will still share my poetry, writerly news, and any other essays that do not fit underneath the House of Rest banner.)
Caretaking isn’t the only reason for exhaustion after all. Though my twins are the primary reason I have an honorary masters in sleep deprivation and exhaustion, there are a hundred reasons and a dozen ways in which you may be feeling the strain of you life, and the need to accept the invitation to rest. And you may be asking yourself, but how?
That’s what I hope to talk about here. So let this be your formal invitation.
Welcome to the House of Rest. Come on in, the kettle’s on.
Let me pour you a cup of tea, and point you to my favorite chair. Put your feet up on this ottoman—yes. Like that. Are you comfortable? Do you need some honey or a spoon? I’ve lit the fire just for you.
I hope you feel safe enough to rest awhile—to lay down that heavy pack you’ve been carting everywhere. I know there are some burdens that no one else but God will ever see—I promise not to pry. You can share as you like. I’ll do the same. But won’t you sit here with me and rest awhile?
This will be a quiet place. This will be a seasonal place.
I’m designing the content to flow with the seasons, and of course winter (in the Northern Hemisphere) is a lovely place to start when considering rest. It is the fallow season. And while I still believe that the seeds sown in suffering will bring us to a beautiful crown of flowers someday, it’s important to acknowledge that we will not get there by “powering through.” We need to rest.
God will bring the flowers and the fruit in their season. But this fallow ground is holy too.
The warmest of welcomes dear friends, I’m so glad you are here.
your hostess in the House of Rest,
Gracie
So beautiful! I felt these words and they were refreshing.
that bit about the ottoman. like that. ooh! Have you read Inciting Joy by Ross Gay? His opening essay (or maybe even the introduction) really reminds me of this.