Sabbath Rest...

There’s a kind of hush that settles over the house when Sunday arrives. Not the silence of absence, but the fullness of stillness — the kind that asks nothing of you but to be.

This week, I’ve chosen to step into that stillness more intentionally. No lists. No tasks. Just a quiet honoring of the day — a Sabbath, in the old sense of the word. A pause. A breath.

The morning light came in soft, brushing the walls with gold. I moved slowly, letting the rhythm of the day unfold without direction. There was no need to hurry. I brewed tea. I sat. I watched the way the steam curled upward and disappeared.

I painted. Not for a project, not to finish anything — just to feel the brush move, to watch color bloom across canvas. It felt like prayer, though no words were spoken. Just presence. Just breath.

There’s something sacred in letting the world be as it is, without trying to shape it. In letting yourself be as you are, without trying to improve. This day has been that — A moment that didn’t ask for performance, only gratitude.

I don’t know what your Sunday looks like. But if you find yourself longing for stillness, for a moment outside of time, I invite you to make space for it. Even a small one. A corner of a room. A pause between tasks. A breath before the next thing.

Sometimes, rest is not a reward. It’s a way home.