I’m perched on a large planter box in the middle of our patio, knees drawn up to my chest, bare feet on the cement, as I catch up with one of my dearest friends. She’s telling me about how it’s going with her — the relentlessness of just keeping her littles alive and keeping the house running — and I’m nodding along, every word resonating. She explains that she’s constantly wavering between feeling like mothering is enough  on its own and feeling like she should be doing more. As she continues to list the things she feels like she should be doing, I say with a laugh, “You’re should-ing all over yourself.” 

I laugh because I do this too. While I’m not a mother, I have my own “shoulds” (and “should nots”) that drift across my mind just when I’m feeling okay about things. I should be writing more, I should not have had that extra cookie, I should have more to show for this time. Sometimes, though, I realize I simply should be kinder to myself.

That’s where I am today. Maybe I’ll have more of a case of the should’s tomorrow, but for now I’m feeling strangely content. Contentment is not our normal — at least, not the normal I hear from friends or see on social most of the time. More often than not, we’re longing for “more,” which, actually, can be good. As C.S. Lewis puts it in Mere Christianity, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

I find this homesickness for another world — a world in which we’re completely content, free from pain, one with God and each other, constantly creating and thriving — to be a helpful window into my current state. Longing for more but also finding glimpses of heaven here on earth. Through a walk, a wave from a friendly neighbor, a surprise bouquet of flowers from my sweet daddy, or a good book.

I’ve only just started journeying my way through Designing Your Life, but already that book and the practices found in it have helped me realize something important: I don’t value work or life on a productivity scale. I find value in creating and connecting, in joy and play. And if that’s the case, then I can find contentment in my job — whatever that may be — and my writing as long as I’m leaning into my values and not getting sucked into the drive for “more.” More money, more recognition, more prestige, more fill-in-the-blank. Those aren’t my values.

This realization stunned me with its simplicity, and I’m grateful for the time I’ve been given to reflect and rest. Without it, I doubt I would have had the headspace to come to that conclusion — to find my resting state. Stillness and solitude paired with extended times of prayer, meditation, Scripture reading, and writing each morning, has kept me grounded in these uncertain times. Throughout the day, I’m also reminding myself to connect with God through spiritual practices like the Daily Office and the Prayer of Examen.

I know when life returns to “normal” — though it will probably always look a little different, won’t it? — I will not have the same luxury of time. Even then, I want to make a point of retaining these life-sustaining practices, even if they become a bit more brief or peppered throughout my day. Ultimately, this time has allowed me to come to my resting state — to contentment. And when life picks back up and the pace gets quicker, I hope that I can find moments to return to rest. To contentment.

My hope is not in a job or a vaccine — but Lord, please and quickly! — but in God. Or rather, my hope is on God. As pastors Dave Lomas and John Mark Comer shared on the Reality SF podcast this week, hope will not disappoint us when the object of that hope is God himself. Anything else will surely disappoint us because it was not made to sustain us or bring us the meaning and contentment we long for. 

Time and again, I come back to this quote from Saint Augustine: “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” May you find your resting place and your resting state today.