It's the rest of the week and, for those of us on the Gregorian calendar, it's the end of the year.
We’ve come to the end—and the beginning—of another lap around the sun.
The planet doesn't pause to refuel, hydrate, or go to the bathroom; however, earth’s elliptical track is vast enough—and our movement around it slow enough—that we might imagine ourselves stopping to catch our breath, and join the cloud of witnesses in the bleachers just long enough to reflect on the past year and cheer each other on as we prepare to start out again.
Writing this newsletter has helped me to notice the exhaustion hidden in the varied moments of everyday life and to reframe them as invitations to rest and receive the kindness of God.
Sharing my life in this way has helped to keep me honest and aware—and it’s nice to feel like I’m in good company.
Thank you for reading, for subscribing, for supporting.
As I look over this past year, I notice revelatory patterns as well as encouraging shifts. I acknowledge the messiness of the process and I take heart because so many things have become so much easier.
Reflection fosters intentionality.
Here are some questions that I hope will enrich your own year-end reflections in relationship to living from a place of internal rest:
When did you feel a deep sense of internal peace and rest?
When did you feel chaos and unrest?
When did you experience a sense of internal rest, in spite of external chaos?
When was a time you were able to move from a place of unrest to rest?
What circumstances provoke you to a state of internal unrest right now, and what does your process of finding rest look like?
What do you most like about living from a place of internal rest?
What do you least like about living from a place reactive unrest?
What factors/people/practices influence your state of rest or unrest?
What is one way or one situation in which you’d like to experience rest this coming year?
Here’s to the best year yet, and may your rest be sweet,
Alicia