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The Sabbath––the seventh day. 

The day of rest before starting a work week all over again. 

Here’s some not-very-restful news: until this past Sunday, I hadn’t taken a day of rest in. . . I actually don’t know how long. Months, probably. 

The work week leaves little room for me to spend time with friends, my boyfriend or family. And when I am at home after work spending time with family, my eyes are glued to my computer for more (you guessed it) work! 

Outside of my 9 to 5, I edit author’s books, which has kept me overwhelmed, stressed out and, well, not very rested. Balancing work and life doesn’t feel like balancing at all. Not to mention, I’m doing a final read-through of my very own novel right now. This balancing act is feeling more and more like I’m on a catapult, wound way too tight––and the rubber band is going to snap any minute. 

Last week, I pulled late nights, early mornings, and sacrificed time to rest and time with people I love. The weekend was even filled with pre-made plans that allowed little time at home. 

Amid all this, I expressed over the phone to one of my close friends that I was feeling like I was in the middle of a big ocean, and my legs were tired, and my lungs were giving out. She said she recently made the decision to practice the Sabbath on one day of the week. Sunday, Saturday, Thursday, whatever day it might be for the week, she was going to take it, rest in it and trust that whatever work needed to be done that day, the Lord would find a way for her. 

Scared, and not entirely sure if I had truly dedicated myself to practicing a Sabbath, we made the pact together to take last Sunday as our rest day. 

Most Sundays, I rush through lunch after church so I can get home and start catching up on emails and writing articles for the next day to relieve myself of a stressful Monday. Somehow, I always end up with a stressful Monday, hurrying to meet deadline in just enough time to make it out the door to get to church on time again, which is followed by more book editing to do. 

This week was different, though. 

After church on Sunday, I had a restful lunch with my boyfriend. We spent time with his family, went to the mall together, and snacked on cheesecake, over which he said, “I’m glad we’ve gotten to spend the day together.”

“Me, too,” I’d said. “I’m practicing my Sabbath today, so I’m trying not to work until tomorrow.”

He smiled at me and reached over the table to hold my hand. 

I got home by 6:45 p.m., got in my pajamas, threw my hair up, and snacked by the television until I went to bed.

Rested. Rejuvenated. And the best part? 

My work the next day was easy peasy. I left the office with only one article left to write, which I did after a nice lunch. 

The Lord provided. You knock, you receive. You rest, you let God work. You trust, He delivers. 

Sometimes, as complicated as it seems, it’s really just that simple.