In the Quiet Seasons: Finding Faith When Life Feels Heavy
Photo by Pascal Debrunner – Unsplash
It’s been five months since I last wrote. Not because I didn’t have stories to tell or things to share with you—but because I was in the middle of living out an unplanned personal storyline I didn’t see coming.
In February, life took a sharp turn I didn’t plan for. I was hospitalized with pneumonia for the second time in less than a year. Added to the pneumonia, was the frustration of vertigo. After twenty hours in the ER, I spent four days in a place where time blurs and the world outside feels impossibly far away. The hospital stay was a physical ordeal, but what followed was just as challenging: a deep, bone-tiring exhaustion that left me with barely enough energy to get through the day.
The pneumonia passed, but the season of recovery did not. I was referred to outpatient therapy, which I’ve been attending for a month now. I didn’t expect this round of therapy, but I’m grateful for it. The focus is a bit different and the therapist understands long-term disability and the toll it takes on the body, which is refreshing. The other challenge is that sleep has become a huge struggle. Some nights, the quiet of the room feels too loud. Some mornings, the idea of getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain; three to four and a half hours of sleep is simply not enough and sleep deprivation began to set in.
In the midst of dealing with all this, I’ve had to make a hard choice: self-care has to come first.
That sounds simple, but for a person who is used to doing—writing, creating, helping—it’s a profound surrender. It means saying no to productivity. It means resting when your mind says “keep going.” It means trusting that God isn’t asking you to carry the weight of the world while your body is still healing.
When Weariness Becomes A Companion
There’s a verse that has held me close as I live one day at a time, it’s Matthew 11:28-29:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”
I used to think weariness was something I had to push through. Now I’m learning it’s something God can use. In the quiet of the hospital room, in the stillness of a therapy session, in the exhaustion that won’t let me write—I’ve felt His presence in a way I never have before. He’s walking closely beside me, helping me to carry the weight of things that are more than I can carry myself.
Life’s unexpected seasons don’t always feel like blessings in the midst of them. But like the refining fire that purifies gold, they can strip away the noise and leave only what’s real. In my weakness and weariness, I’ve found a deeper dependence on God. In the silence, I’ve learned to tune my ears to listen.
The Healing Journey: Therapy and Hope
I used to hesitate to talk about therapy, because in some way, shape or form, it’s been a part of my life since I was a little girl. I learned to hate it—even calling it “the torture chamber.” This time around, I’ve come to see it differently.
Journal Prompts for the Weary
- What burden am I carrying that Jesus is inviting me to lay down today?
- How does the image of a “gentle and humble heart” change the way I view my current struggles?
- In what areas of my life am I trying to carry the yoke alone instead of sharing it with God?
- What would it look like to practice “soul rest” instead of just physical rest this week?
- How can I trust that Jesus’ yoke is easy and His burden is light, even when I feel exhausted?
Therapy is part of God’s healing.
Just as we take medicine for a fever or rest for a broken bone, seeking emotional and mental health support is an act of stewardship over the mind and heart God gave us. it is not an act of weakness, it is an act of strength in the midst of weakness and weariness. That’s a huge difference.
Elijah, one of the most powerful prophets in the Bible, once found himself so exhausted and afraid that he asked God to take his life (1 Kings 19). What did God do? He didn’t scold him. He gave him food, rest, and a gentle whisper. God meets us where we are, even in our darkest valleys.
Rest as an Act of Faith
Even though sleep has been a battleground for me lately, I’m learning that rest is not laziness, it is obedience. Jesus invited His disciples to “come away by yourselves and rest a while” (Mark 6). He knew that even His closest followers needed to stop, breathe, and be still.
Resting is an act of trust. It says, “God, I believe You are holding the world even while I sleep. I believe You are working even when I’m not.”
So, as part of my obedience, I am purposefully going to bed as close to 9:00pm each night as possible. This is a blow to my pride. 58 and in bed at a time children go to bed, but I refuse to let that thought linger or stop me. It is for season, not forever.
Looking Forward: What This Season Has Taught Me
I don’t have all the answers yet. I don’t know when my energy will fully return or when sleep will come easily and I will awaken refreshed and energized, but I do know this: this season hasn’t weakened my faith—it’s refined it.
Like the image of sunlight breaking through a misty forest, I’m learning that even in the fog, the light is still there. I am waiting for the clouds to part.
If you’re in a season like this too—tired, healing, uncertain—you’re not alone. Let’s walk through it together, one breath, one prayer, one page at a time.
I love journalling, so I thought the best way to end this blog post was to include some journal prompts for you to join along, if you wish. Take each prompt and answer it. There are five prompts so do it over five days.
