Be Still

I have overslept three times in the past two weeks.

Three times.

You might be thinking, What’s the big deal? Or Three is nothing; I oversleep every day!

But for me, three times in fourteen days is a lot.

Three times, I woke up, noticed the clock was way past the time when I needed to get up, and immediately felt a surge of adrenaline and anxiety. You know that feeling: the one where you bolt out of bed, move through the house like a tornado, and start your day in a scramble.

It’s not fun.

It happened this morning, and I missed a coffee date I was so looking forward to. But when my friend texted back that she was thankful I got the rest my body needed, she made me think about what my body actually needs. I have been operating on full throttle for the past four years. Maybe even longer. Ever since graduating college and moving to New York, I’ve been in acceleration mode, constantly pushing to go further and faster and harder.

What would it look like to take a deep breath? To push pause on the flurry of activity in my life and enjoy the present moment without hustling through it?

These are questions I am currently wading through and exploring as I settle into life here in Tennessee.

In New York City, I walked everywhere. I walked up and down six flights of stairs just to get to my apartment. I walked up and down more stairs each time I rode the subway. I lugged 20-plus pounds of groceries block after block whenever I went shopping or visited the farmer’s market. (And probably a lot more if I went to Trader Joe’s because I can’t resist.)

Seemingly easy tasks often became far more complicated simply because I lived in New York.

The week before I left the city, I put together a garbage bag full of clothing and shoes to take to my local Salvation Army. I finally found time to transport them—on a day when it was raining. So I ordered a $5 Uber to drive me the 10 minutes to the Salvation Army. The driver ended up yelling at me about slamming his trunk too hard after I put my trash bag in there. He got so angry with me, in fact, that he scared me. I got out of his car before the ride even started and attempted to take a cab instead. Unfortunately the cab I hailed told me he was only going to Brooklyn. I left the cab with my giant trash bag and stepped back into the rain. I burst into tears, leaving my donation bag on the street and walking back to my apartment.

It’s a silly example but an example nonetheless: Everyday life in New York City is serious work. It’s hard, and it’s not for the faint of heart. It will knock you down time and time again. It will make you push the gas pedal harder and harder until eventually you’re running on empty.

Despite all of this, I loved it.

I loved the thrill. I loved seeing how much I could handle and accomplish and excel at. I loved having a packed calendar and knocking things off my list. I loved seeing the number of steps on my iPhone hit 8 or 10 or 12 thousand every day. I loved the constant movement. And I loved the sense of power I got from living a life that many people told me they could never handle.

I let “New Yorker” become part of my identity.

Now, I drive pretty much everywhere. I have a Walmart, Target, Kroger, Publix, you name it within a five to 10-minute drive of my apartment. I have a 15-minute commute instead of a 50-minute one. I live on the ground floor. I have a dishwasher and a thermostat. I have convenience in a way I haven’t experienced since college, and it’s amazing.

It’s also really challenging for me. I think part of what led to my eating disorder years ago was this internal desire to push myself and be better. Ultimately, it wasn’t about the food—it was about control and maximizing my own control. It was about approval and accomplishments. It was about being the best. Having success.

My definition of success became entwined with busyness and movement. If I’m honest, it still is. I still see a full life as one that’s very busy and active.

Yet in the past two weeks, God has been showing me how completely false that is. He’s forcing me to rest. I’m oversleeping because I’m tired. My body is craving the rest. For the first time in years, I’m not walking everywhere and collapsing into bed at the end of the day. I’m not pushing myself with a new fitness or yoga routine. I’m not scheduling in a million coffee dates, dinners, and parties.

I want to keep moving and pushing, but the Lord is all, “Be still and know that I am God.”

He is stripping me of control. My ability to wake up to an alarm is not so hot right now, and the step counter on my iPhone is broken. I don’t think either is a coincidence. I talked a lot about rest and stillness while living in Manhattan. I even wrote a blog post on practicing a Sabbath. The little ways that I rested as New York City resident were really just the practice round. Now I’m in the game. Now I have put those stillness strategies into play for real.

I found out this week that my NYC subletter is moving out. I’ll need to find a new apartment-mate for my old roomie, someone who is a good fit for her and who’s also willing to stay. Otherwise, I’m liable for six month’s rent. Yikes.

There’s very little I can do from here to find this new roommate. I put up ads and am spreading the word, but I don’t have much control over the situation. The thing is, God called me here to Tennessee. He won’t leave this big piece of the puzzle unsolved. He provided before, and He’ll do so again. This time, he’s doing it without my control. He’s doing it while asking me to be still.

It’s evident to me that the Lord knows what I need and is using everything from broken alarm clocks to a subletter falling through to show me that what I need is rest.

God put a verse on my heart this morning. I keep hearing Acts 17:28 over and over in my head:

“For in Him, we live and move and have our being. As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are His offspring.”  

I move and I have life because of Him. Period. That’s encouraging to me. My identity is not rooted in being a New Yorker, in hitting 10,000 steps a day, or in crossing things off an endless checklist. I’m a child of God. My identity is complete in Him. I pray I remember that every day.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving me life and the ability to move. Thank you for reminding me that you are in control, and life is so much better that way. Thank you for showing me stillness. Give me the courage to practice all you’re teaching me.

I pray that you, too, would see the beauty of stillness. Surrender to His plans and provision. Let Him do His work, and I know your life will be a glorious adventure because of it.

Reflections From the Snow

A snow-blanketed Central Park may just be my favorite place on earth.

Not only does it look like Narnia, but it also feels more serene than any other time of the year. There’s a sense of stillness that covers the Park along with the snow. Fewer people are walking or running. Biking is nearly impossible. Even the dogs have stayed indoors. The whole Park seems suspended in a moment in time. Everything moves at a slower pace—it’s one of those rare times where you can actually hear the wind whistling through the tree branches. And call me crazy, but the Park even smells better with the snow. Fresh, clean, crisp.

It is truly magical.

During this weekend’s epic winter storm Jonas, I spent my Saturday morning reading and writing in bed while watching the snow fall outside my window. As I sipped on my coffee, I kept hearing the words:

Be still and know that I am God.

The snow forces me to stop.

To just be.  

To know that I am not in charge.

That is really hard for me to do. I had three different activities planned for Saturday, and I had no choice but to cancel all of them. Being able to do nothing for an entire day in New York City is truly a practice, one I’m only just starting to get the hang of.

Resting is the opposite of the world's current favorite mantra: hustle. Take a look at Etsy, and you'll understand exactly what I'm talking about.

"Good things happen to those who hustle."

"Hustle today. Enjoy tomorrow."

And my personal favorite:

"Pray, hustle, repeat."

I looked up hustle in the dictionary—“to quickly move or push someone often in a rough way.” Also see, “to make strenuous efforts to obtain (money or business).” That actually doesn’t sound fun at all.

We're told to work harder, and even to play harder. We have apps that satisfy our every needs: from dry-cleaned underwear on-demand to people who will wait in line for Cronuts for you. We’re busy, and we have more important items to cross of our lists than undergarments and pastries. We're generally expected to get stuff done and to be aggressive if that will make us more efficient. Being busy is something to strive for; being busy is an accomplishment.

We wear busy like a badge of honor.  

Maybe I’m just preaching to myself here. Maybe you are able to set aside all the invitations, goals, and tasks to simply be still. Maybe you have a backyard with a hammock where you spend quiet time every day. In that case, I salute you. I hope to be more like you. Feel free to skip over the rest of this article.

But if you’re like me, you can easily get caught up in the allure of busyness. It’s a constant cycle of more, more, more.

So I have to ask, at what point is life simply enough? When we can we finally stop to take a breath?

After three years in New York City, I can tell you that the hustle will never truly satisfy.

Rest is ultimately so much better. Thankfully, we can find rest wherever we are—even in the city that never sleeps. We always have the choice to lift our heads and look to Him for true restoration.

The snowstorm reminded me of that this week. It was a gift. Whenever I see snow, it feels as though a bit of heaven has floated down for all God’s creation. We get to appreciate it and enjoy it until it melts away. We’re left with the comfort of knowing it is just a glimpse of the beauty that is to come one day.

We’re given a season of hibernation and quiet during the winter months— an opportunity to do less with the shorter daylight hours. It’s yet another way God cares for us, so much so that he naturally provides periods of rest like this one.

Not every day will be a snow day—I’m working on cultivating more stillness in my everyday. Fewer events on my social calendar, fewer freelance projects, fewer Instagram posts. I’m figuring out what my life looks like when there are moments to simply be.

I’ve started taking a slightly longer commute. By taking a different train than usual and spending 10 more minutes travelling, I am able to almost always find a seat. That means I can read, listen to a sermon, or close my eyes. I used to use those 45 minutes to catch up on emails and start the work day before I had reached my desk. Now I make a point to leave my phone in my bag until I am in the office.

In the same vein, I’ve gone back to using a real alarm clock. My body was so accustomed to waking up to the iPhone “marimba”—the sound of a mallet hitting wooden keys that we all know so well—that it took a little time to get used to the classic alarm clock beep again. I set my work phone and my personal phone on “do not disturb” mode (total game changer) and tuck them in my purse around 9 or 10 p.m. The hope is that’s where they’ll stay until 9 a.m. the following day.

Separating from my phone gives my hard-working thumbs a break; it also allows my brain to actually focus on the here and now. I noticed that while I’m excellent at multitasking, my comprehension level has gone way down. I miss the things that are right in front of me. If I’m reading or writing but continually glancing at the light or the vibration of my phone, then I’m only half-tuned in to what I’m reading and writing. For me, fostering rest often comes with setting boundaries and saying no. I’m still learning how to do that, but the times when I have, I’m refreshed.

This January, I began a Bible in a year plan. Mornings look like waking up a bit earlier so I can read and reflect on the passage for the day as I eat breakfast. I’ll be honest: Sometimes I am scrambling to get out the door and don’t read until I hit my bed that night. Sometimes it’s the next day. And that’s okay. When I’m digging into the Word, though, I feel more at ease for the day ahead.

I’m rooted in the reality that peace comes from Him alone.

I see how I’m much more content when I build real rest throughout my week. I can catch my breath and think clearly. It’s good for my body, mind, and soul.

This weekend, I’m heading back to Central Park to take in the snowy scene while I still can. I want to breathe in that cold, fresh air and listen to the peaceful sounds of nature, completely insulated from the rushing city streets just a short distance away. Who knows, I may even take off my watch, turn off my cell phone, and walk for as long as my feet can carry me.

Less hustle. More stillness. More grace.