I laid down and slept.

It was just a nap — in the middle of a long day. But somehow, it felt holy. My body slowed. My baby breathed softly on my chest. And in that quiet moment, I remembered: the Lord sustains me, even here. I laid down and I slept — not because everything was finished, but because His presence made rest possible. A midday miracle, woven in grace.

He alone can restore our souls.

“I lay down and slept;
I woke again, for the Lord sustained me.”
— Psalm 3:5

Today I took a nap —
a small thing, maybe.
But not really.

Because when you’re in a season of giving so much —
of rocking and nursing and holding through the tears —
a nap isn’t just a nap.

It’s a surrender.
It’s a laying down of control.
It’s a trusting that the world (and the dishes) can wait
while you obey the quiet whisper that says,
“Come away and rest.”

And when I woke — just a short while later —
I felt whole.
Held.
Sustained.
Not because I solved all my tasks.
Not because the to-do list is done.
But because He is faithful to sustain —
even in sleep.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m behind.
If everything I’m building — this site, the journal, the vision God gave me —
is taking too long.

But then I remember:
God is not in a hurry.
He’s not grading me on productivity.
He’s growing something in me that’s deeper than deadlines.

And my baby,
this little girl who naps only when held close,
is part of that holy delay.
She is not the distraction from the work —
she is the reason for it.

Because what good is a platform if I miss the sacred moments it’s meant to serve?

What good is striving if I lose the stillness where I hear His voice?

So today, I choose peace over pressure.
Presence over performance.
Obedience over obsession.

Because I don’t want to rush what God is making sacred.

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Reflection

There’s a deep kind of rest that doesn’t come from sleep alone —
it comes from surrender.

What if your greatest offering today
is not how much you get done,
but how willing you are to pause?

To nap without guilt.
To trust that even a small “yes” to rest
can hold holy power.

Prayer

Jesus,
Thank You for holding all that feels undone.
Thank You for being the One who sustains me —
not my schedule, not my output, not my striving.

Teach me to rest without guilt.
To honor the slow pace You’ve invited me into.
Help me remember that this season —
with all its softness and interruptions —
isn’t in the way of the calling…
it is the calling.

Amen.

Blessing for the Faithful Nurturer

May you rest without shame.
May you rise with peace.
And may you always remember —
you are sustained by grace,
not by what you complete.

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Optional Journal Prompts

• What is one thing I’m trying to force or rush that God may be asking me to surrender?
• How does guilt try to interrupt my rest — and what truth can I speak back to it?
• What would it look like to receive this slow season as sacred?