I Finally Gave My Brain A Rest

Here's what happened

Several deadlines hit at once—some expected, others not. I had to prep for upcoming speaking engagements and get back to my writing routine. Then, event planners asked for details sooner than expected, and I suddenly found myself scrambling.

At the same time, Charlotte began working with a new behavioral therapist. She’s not just teaching Charlotte—she’s teaching me. The strategies to develop her speech and reduce frustration require me to learn and practice right alongside her. It’s encouraging work, but it’s also demanding.

In the past, this many responsibilities would have brought out my worst habits: snapping at Todd, indulging in chocolate, and defaulting to street tacos for dinner every night. But here’s the surprise—I’m not stressed. I’m even enjoying the challenge.

Unplugging my brain

I’ve gotten better over the years at physical rest, but I’ve neglected mental rest. Thinking I had to compensate for my chronic illness and lack of stamina, I pushed my brain until the gerbil that powers it toppled right off the wheel.

Last week I finally gave the poor creature a break. I cut back on internet time, stopped forcing myself to churn out polished writing, and let myself have some unproductive fun. I didn’t go completely offline; I kept journaling and writing prayers, since those keep me steady. But stepping back was enough. The gerbil climbed back on.

Why? Because I gave my brain a rest last week.

And that raised a bigger question: if rest works this well, why am I so bad at it?

I know God is powerful, but letting go and trusting Him is a lot harder than just saying I should. When life gets overwhelming, my brain doesn’t cooperate—it just screams, “But how?”

What Jesus Really Offered

Rest isn’t just downtime. It’s receiving what Jesus offers. I’ve known Matthew 11:28–29 since 1980—”Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” I memorized it, sang it, quoted it. For years, I thought I was living it.

But when life-altering situations like addiction in the family and raising a toddler with special needs arose, platitudes like “Let go and let God” grated on me. They felt shallow, even condescending.

I remember sitting in a support group when a member shared his concerns and the facilitator responded, “You need to let go and let God,” as if he’d just dropped some profound wisdom. I wanted to yell, “Thank you, Yoda,” and throw my coffee cup. But I knew Jesus was watching, so I didn’t.

The truth is, real rest—the kind Jesus offers—requires something deeper than spiritual platitudes. It’s about receiving what He gives rather than manufacturing it through willpower or technique.

Growing at 63

God was kind to meet me in my younger, shallower faith. But now I want deeper convictions. This week’s little victory showed me I’m growing, but it was just a skirmish, not the war. I still grit my teeth and hunch my shoulders more than I’d like.

I haven’t mastered laying my burdens on Jesus. When the big storms hit, it still feels like a mystery. But I want to keep learning. And the truth is, still getting to grow at 63 is no small gift.

Maybe one day, I’ll stop running my poor gerbil ragged and finally rest the way Jesus meant me to. Until then, at least the wheel is turning again.

Your Turn

When was the last time you gave your brain a rest? What changed for you afterward?