Rest and Refuel

….when you feel too weary to keep going, but don’t know how to rest or if you can…..

I read something recently about rest and refueling.
To be honest, this has never come naturally to me.

Rest?
I like to go. To do. To push through.

But in full vulnerability, this past season has been one of needing to rest… and needing to fiercely protect that rest in order to refuel.

Life can be painful. After walking through a season of deep loss, I just kept going. Kept doing. Kept pretending everything was fine when inside, I felt like I was crashing. In reality, I WAS falling apart — but I felt like I needed to hold it all together.

For my children. For my friends. For my clients. For my business. For appearances. Even for God (which is almost laughable, because He is the very One inviting us into rest and gently picking up the broken pieces when we don’t.)

So what keeps us from resting?

For me, it looked like this:

• Pride — I can do it all.

• Lies from the past whispering that rest is lazy.

• Perfectionism — needing everything to look “just right.”

• Mixed-up priorities.

• People-pleasing and struggling to say no.

• And honestly… just life. Life is busy and demanding.

But how do we actually slow down when we are so accustomed to constant motion? When responsibilities keep piling up, and life keeps asking for more?

In January of this year, I was walking the beach every day, surrounded by beauty — ocean waves crashing, palm trees swaying, warm sand beneath my feet — and yet internally, I was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically.

And even in this beauty… I was rushing. I was speed-walking down the shoreline as if I were running from something.

One day, though, I felt a gentle invitation from Jesus: “Slow down”. Not “fix yourself.” Not “try harder.”
Not “hold it together.” Just… slow down.

So I did., or at least I tried, many times having to remind myself. Instead of racing, I began to meander. I started looking for seashells. My walks became little treasure hunts — wondering what beauty I might find that morning or evening as I searched for unique seashells, wondering what message God might whisper through moments of stillness, beauty, and wonder.

And slowly, I realized how much I had been missing by refusing to rest.

A few days ago, a friend made a comment that has stayed with me. She said the circumstances of pain and loss can feel like broken pottery — shattered into pieces that only the Potter can truly put back together.

I picture a small child desperately trying to glue broken pottery back together herself. Clumsy hands. Too much glue. Frustration building as the pieces keep slipping apart no matter how hard she tries.

Honestly… that picture felt a lot like me. Trying so hard to fix what was broken. Trying to make life look the way I thought it was supposed to look. Trying to hold everything together. Trying to hang onto the loss.

But what if God is not asking us to fix ourselves? What if He is inviting us into surrender? Into placing every broken piece into the hands of the Potter.

Because He is the Master Designer. He knows how to restore what is broken in ways we never could. It may not look the same afterward, but He creates beauty from brokenness. Strength from surrender. Wholeness from places that once felt shattered. He makes greatness from what we think is a lost and wasted season.

This season has taught me so much. Would I have chosen the pain and loss? No. Would I have wanted this season to look different? Absolutely.

But do I regret the deeper surrender? The deeper dependence on Jesus? The slowing down? The healing? The beauty of a deeper intimacy with Him? No.

Somewhere along the way, I began to discover treasures hidden inside the slowing down.

What started as searching for seashells on the beach became something much deeper. Those treasure hunts began calming a nervous system that had been screaming at me for years. Slowly, intentionally slowing down became part of the healing. I began inviting Jesus with me on every walk.

Those walks became moments I looked forward to and didn’t want to end or be interrupted. Not because they were dramatic or spiritual in some grand way — but because they were quiet moments of rest with the Potter, and I was learning something new. How to rest and be present

Present enough to notice beauty. Present enough to breathe deeply. Present enough to hear Him again.

The other day, I found the largest shell yet — whole, perfect, beautiful. A moment that took my breath away. I stood there staring at it, overwhelmed by how something so simple could feel like such a gift.

Jesus invites us into rest not just for ourselves… but for relationship with Him.

When I am constantly rushing, I forget to truly spend time with Him. My prayers become hurried: “Thank You, Jesus.” “Help me, Jesus.” And while He welcomes those prayers too, His heart desires for more than rushed moments squeezed into exhausted days.

He longs to walk with us through the ordinary moments. To be invited into each part of our day. To sit with us in the healing. To speak tenderness into the broken places we try so hard to hide.

And that is one thing I would encourage someone else with, through my own journey: Take the time to find the treasures along the way. Intentionally slow down. Invite Jesus into the weariness and pain instead of trying to carry it all alone. Surround yourself with people who speak life into you. People who love you enough to encourage you, support you, pray for you, and lovingly challenge you to grow. I have a few friendships like that now, and I treasure them deeply. There is something powerful about relationships rooted in honesty, kindness, support, and growth.

And strangely enough… give. Even when you are weary. There is something healing about stepping outside of a victim mindset and asking, How can I love someone today?

One weekend, feeling myself slipping backward into discouragement and self-pity, I wrote on a sticky note: “You are here to serve.”

That tiny reminder shifted something in me.

Not into overworking or striving — but into purpose. Into lifting my eyes again. Sometimes serving looked as simple as a smile, a text message, or a quiet prayer for someone else.

Rest also means boundaries. Learning to say no. Learning to prioritize. Learning that sometimes it is okay to cancel the extra thing, curl up on the sofa, and simply breathe.

Sometimes rest looks like a treasure hunt on the beach, or laughter with friends. Sometimes it looks like silence with Jesus, without an agenda. And more than anything… lean into Him.

A wise friend said to me, during this past season, when I was struggling deeply to let go - I was gripping tightly to pain and disappointment, unsure how to release it. “Picture Jesus holding a basket. Every time you want to pick the pain back up again, picture placing it into His basket instead.” Surrender.

I have gone back to that basket many times. Because surrender is rarely a one-time moment.
For me, sometimes it is daily. Hourly. Moment by moment. It is giving it back to Him again and trusting that He is able to carry what I cannot.

As I have slowed my pace, I hear His voice more clearly. I feel His gentleness healing places in me that had been aching for a long time. I needed to slow down in order to heal. And I needed to slow down in order to hear….and to become more intimate with Jesus.

So my friend…

What does rest and refueling look like for you?

Not the rushed answer. Not the “I’m fine” answer. Really think about it.

What restores your soul? What calms your mind? What helps you breathe again? Where is Jesus inviting you to slow down?

Be intentional enough to ask the question.
What does rest and refueling look like for you