Finding the Rhythm of Life

No easy task, but a worthwhile effort

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First Snow, by the ever-wonderful Loré Pemberton

Four years ago, just as the pandemic was picking up steam, I was laid off from my job as a social media specialist at a regional nonprofit. I had worked there for seven years, since Lucy was just a month old, and the largely remote work combined with a mother-in-law who lived close by was the only thing that had made being at home with our daughter possible. I reveled in the freedom it gave me to work flexible hours so I could also invest time and energy into the work I found most valuable: being a wife, mother, and author.

We were busy and life was full. We volunteered with high schoolers at our church. My husband’s job with the Atlanta Falcons meant every fall and winter was slammed with events. We had a busy preschooler and I was in my heaviest writing season. Then I got pregnant, had our son, and Covid-19 turned everything upside down. Because of the intensive therapy I needed postpartum, we put Theo in daycare and most of my paycheck went towards that cost. Once I got laid off, we lost the double income…but when everything shut down we also lost our need for daycare. It was then we decided to become a one-income family and I, much healthier and eager to be at home with the kids, made the switch to full-time homemaker and writer.

Since that time, we’ve bought and sold two homes, made multiple school changes, lost our sole source of income, found it again, changed churches (and denominations), and experienced much joy and sorrow in the spaces in between. What kept us sane during these moments, more than anything else, was the hard-won rhythm of our home.

All of us feel the temptation to stretch ourselves too thin, to pursue the offerings of our culture in hopes that we’ll find fulfillment, satisfaction, and happiness. Parents—confronted with all manner of school events, kids’ extracurriculars, playdates, and more—often struggle to balance our yeses with our nos and then arrive at the end of the week with absolutely nothing left to spare for ourselves, our homes, or other activities that fill our cups. Sometimes, this is necessary. Sometimes we must endure seasons of busyness and stress; life is not just a picnic, after all. But there comes a time when, if we are not careful to cultivate other practices, such a season can become our entire lives. And the price—poor health, chaos at home, spiritual depletion, and more—is just too high to pay.

I’m a highly-sensitive introvert. I love people up close and personal, but don’t ever ask me to mingle at a party. I prefer the company of nature, books, friends, family, and home. Don’t get me wrong, I love an adventure! I’ve been skydiving twice and I’ve traveled a ton. I also talk so much I thought I was extroverted for most of my life. But then I realized chaos, crowds, parties, busy schedules, and freakin’ overhead lights, man, make me want to go lie down in a dark room for two days. In short, too much sound, interaction, and running around from place to place rarely serves me well. If there is no space set aside to decompress, I will lash out.

You might not get overwhelmed in the same way I do, but all of us have limits. Our bodies were created for rest as well as work and play. The world we live in demands that we do more, go faster, work harder and we are paying for it with our lives. There is a certain amount of privilege in choosing to move at a slower pace, to be sure, but I think many of us look at our days and see no possibility for change. In reality, if we got tough with ourselves we might see that we’re saying yes to an abundance of unnecessary shit.

I can’t speak for what serves you or your family best. You might be in the middle of a year full of major transitions—like the one we just experienced—or perhaps you’re caring for a family member who needs round-the-clock support while also raising kids and working full-time. There is no one-size-fits-all solution to the issue of rest and anyone who says they have it figured out is probably involved in an MLM, in which case I’d advise you to politely tell them Goodbye and God Bless! There is, however, the biological need hardwired into all of us for rhythms that help us flourish, and each of us has the ability to take stock of what is working for us and what is not.

In our shift from the evangelical church to Anglicanism, I’ve discovered just how much the rhythm of the liturgical calendar, the Daily Office, and lectionary-style preaching has grounded me in the ordinary holiness of daily life. We mark the seasons again and again—the repetitive rising and falling of nature alongside the reliable wildness of the Word—and, in it, there is acknowledgement that we were created for this sort of rhythm. I find it interesting that while the past two years have been chock full of major shifts in our family culture, I’ve never felt more at peace in all of my adult life. The rhythms of the Church provide a stabilizing force for everything else, and because of the example it offers we have been able to implement many of those rhythms, too.

A few years ago, I was discussing our possible move into the Anglican church with a pastor friend. During our conversation, he made a statement I found coincided with much of my experience as a (former) low-church Protestant. In regards to my admiration for the cyclical nature of the Church calendar and how it mimics what we see in God’s creation, he joked, “That sounds a lot like the pagans.” But does it? Or does it merely reflect the intentional design of a loving, nurturing Father who knows His children better than they know themselves?

The point here, per usual, is not to attempt perfection as we seek healthy rhythms, but to pay attention. What serves you or your family’s needs in a way that helps everyone be fed? Where can you trim and where can you add? Is there a task that can be delegated to a friend, family, or community member? Have you asked?

Perpetual movement breeds exhaustion and perpetual idleness breeds despair. Moving at a single speed, whether fast or slow, is unsustainable for a lifetime. Rhythms build stability, awareness, and room for all that is good in our lives to take root and flourish. As a woman, I’m going to function differently in the follicular phase of my cycle than in the menstrual phase, and—as in the cycles of nature, work, and families—this is by design. We will have winters and summers, harvests and plantings, joy and grief; in all of it God is inviting us to cultivate rhythms so that we might experience more of His abundant life, even (and perhaps especially) when our days feel chaotic.

One of my favorite passages of Scripture is found in 1 Kings in the story of Elijah. The prophet is on the run from Jezebel, the evil queen, who basically tells him, “You better be dead by this time tomorrow,” so, naturally, Elijah is feeling a tad hopeless about the situation. Exhausted, he collapses under a bush in the wilderness and asks the Lord to take his life. Then he falls asleep.

Elijah wakes up later to the touch of an angel, who feeds him with water and freshly baked bread. After another rest, the angel prepares a second meal and Elijah continues on his journey prophesying and generally being awesome until God takes him alive up into heaven.

As my friend Mary Beth and I like to remind one other, sometimes God just needs you to eat something and take a nap.

As we enter into the season of Advent, let’s pause for a moment to consider how God might be asking us to wait. To rest. To take stock. To move gently, if not slowly, into the busiest time of year. There are gifts waiting for us now, not just on December 25th.

“That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.” (Ecc. 3:13)