Embracing Your Rest Notes

I'm resting here in my new, comfortable slippers (thanks, dad), surrounded by the aftermath of Christmas – wrapping paper bits still hiding under the couch, a lone ornament that rolled under the tree skirt, and approximately 47 Amazon boxes I should probably break down. The house feels eerily quieter after days of chaos (it’s never completely quiet with small kids though, right?), and I'm fighting the urge to immediately start planning for New Year's resolutions or tackling my endless to-do list.

You know that feeling, right? When the dust starts settling after a big celebration, and your Type A personality starts whispering (or maybe shouting) that you should be doing something? Anything? I have realized I just don’t rest well… at all.

But this morning, as I sat with my family eating cinnamon rolls and enjoying the time together, I was reminded of Mary's response after the shepherds came to see baby Jesus. Luke tells us that while everyone else was buzzing with excitement, “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (Luke 2:19). She took time to simply sit with the magnitude of what had happened, to let it sink deep into her soul.

I'll admit – my instinct is less like the other Mary sitting at Jesus' feet and more like Martha, bustling around trying to make everything perfect. My Google Calendar looks like a game of Tetris, and I've perfected the art of responding to emails while brushing my teeth. (Don't judge – I know some of you do it too!)

But there's profound wisdom in these in-between spaces. Moses encountered God in the wilderness years between Egypt and the Promised Land. David was shaped in the quiet fields before becoming king. Even Jesus spent 40 days in the desert before beginning His ministry. The Bible is full of these sacred pauses, these moments when God's people were called to simply be still and know that He is God (Psalm 46:10).

In our modern world of productivity apps and hustle culture, it feels almost rebellious to embrace these quieter days between Christmas and New Year's. My Instagram feed is already filling up with “New Year, New You” workout plans and organizational challenges. But what if this liminal space – this holy pause – is exactly where God wants to meet us?

Think about it: the Christmas story itself is bracketed by waiting. The world waited centuries for the Messiah. Mary waited through her pregnancy. The wise men spent months following the star. Even after Jesus' birth, Mary and Joseph had their own period of transition as they navigated their new reality.

This morning, while singing some Christmas hymns in worship (yes, even after Christmas), I was struck by the rest notes in the music. You know those little symbols that tell you to pause? They're not just empty space – they're intentionally crafted moments of silence that give the surrounding notes their meaning and power. Without these deliberate pauses, even the most beautiful melody becomes an overwhelming rush of sound.

I think these days between Christmas and New Year's can be our rest notes – our sacred pauses in the symphony of life. And here's the beautiful thing about rest notes: even when the orchestra is full and the piece is complex, they remain intentional moments of quiet that make the whole thing work.

I know many of us can't completely stop during this week. Work emails still need answers, children still need care, and life's responsibilities don't magically disappear. But even in the midst of what must be done, we can be intentional about creating pockets of rest – moments where we pause to breathe deeply, reflect gratefully, and prepare thoughtfully for what's ahead. They're the pause between the celebration of Christ's birth and the fresh start of January. They're our chance to sit with Mary and ponder, to let the wonder of Emmanuel – God with us – sink deep into our hearts before we rush into what's next.

So here I am, giving myself permission to let the Amazon boxes wait another day. To sit in my semi-quiet house with my family and simply be present. To follow Mary's example and treasure these things in my heart.

What might God be inviting you to ponder in these in-between days? What whispers might you hear in the quiet, when the wrapping paper is cleared away and the Christmas cookies are down to crumbs?

Maybe, just maybe, these seemingly "unproductive" days are actually the most important ones of all.