Self-Care Sunday: Remembering the Sacredness of Rest

Growing up, Sundays followed a familiar rhythm. Church in the morning, followed by a family gathering. A meal at one grandma’s house—where grandpa would inevitably be resting in his favorite chair—then a visit to the other grandma and grandpa’s home.

No one talked about “self-care” or “slowing down.” There were no planners, routines, or wellness buzzwords. And yet, Sunday was clearly different from the rest of the week. It was a day set aside for reflection, togetherness, and rest. At least, I hope those cooking the meals found moments of rest too.

It was simply the way things were done—a tradition quietly passed down through generations.

In Hebrew, the word shavat (שָׁבַת) means to cease, to stop, or to rest from work. It forms the root of Shabbat, the Sabbath—a sacred pause woven into the fabric of life. Growing up, Sunday served as our “sabbath.” Our church embraced the Ten Commandments, and number three was clear: Keep the Sabbath Day Holy.

Regardless of religious belief, there is deep wisdom in this counsel.

Create time.

Create space.

Create permission to rest.

As we move from December into January, we also shift seasons. Winter invites us into a slower rhythm—shorter days, quieter landscapes, a natural turning inward. Nature itself rests in winter, conserving energy beneath the surface. It’s not a season of stagnation, but of preparation. Without rest, there is no renewal. Without stillness, there is no spring.

Yet culturally, January often pressures us to do the opposite: push harder, optimize more, strive endlessly. What if instead, we honored winter as it is meant to be? A season of restoration. A season of gentleness.

Self-care doesn’t have to be elaborate. Sometimes it looks like shared meals, quiet mornings, unhurried afternoons, or moments of stillness infused with scent, warmth, and intention.

So I’ll leave you with this reflection:How do you incorporate rest into your routine?Or do you need to resolve—gently—to make space for rest in 2026?

Rest is not something we earn.

It is something we remember.