Influenza made its way through our house in early January. High fevers. Exhaustion. The constant sound of someone calling, “Mom.” It’s especially difficult when you’re trying to care for everyone else while not feeling well yourself. Time for some reflection.
Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!But somewhere in the middle of the tissues, medicine cups, and quiet afternoons, I realized something unexpected:
This sickness, in its own way, was a gift.
Not because being sick is pleasant. Not because I would ever choose it. But because it forced me to stop and slow down.
I really love ending the day feeling like I accomplished something productive. Most days, “productive” looks like a clean home—laundry folded, dishes washed, floors vacuumed and mopped—meals cooked, and everyone’s needs taken care of. That’s what feels measurable. Tangible.
But as I sat there recovering, I started reflecting on something.
What if it’s just as productive to sit and play with my kids? To read with them? Or even to sit and read my own book while they play nearby?
If I’m honest, I struggle with sitting and relaxing. With each child, I’ve felt like my “free time” has become less and less. And whatever free time I do have feels like it needs to be filled with something productive—usually cleaning.
The Permission to Rest
Very rarely do I sit down without feeling like I should be doing something productive. As a working mom, any free moment often feels like it should be filled—laundry folded, lunches packed, library books returned, meals planned, schedules coordinated. There is always something that needs to be done. And usually, everyone else’s needs come first.
But when you’re sick, you don’t have a choice.
You slow down.
You cancel plans.
You let some things wait.
And in that forced stillness, I felt something I don’t often allow myself to feel: permission to rest.
Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
Stillness doesn’t come naturally in a world that glorifies busy. Sometimes I wonder if the only way we truly become still is when something interrupts our momentum.
Illness interrupts.
And in that interruption, there is space.
Rest Is Not Laziness
We often measure our worth by what we accomplish.
How productive were we today?
How much did we check off the list?
How many people did we serve?
Our society thrives on, “What did you get done today?” Checklists. Boxes to mark. (And if you’re like me, maybe you’ve even written something down after you’ve already done it—just to check it off. Guilty.)
But rest is just as important as productivity.
Without rest, our bodies weaken.
Without rest, our patience shortens.
Without rest, our perspective blurs.
Even God modeled rest.
Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds us, “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” There are seasons of movement and seasons of stillness. Seasons of pouring out and seasons of refilling.
Maybe even a season of sickness has purpose.
During recovery, I found myself doing a few things I had been putting off—not because I suddenly had more energy, but because I had mental space. The constant rushing paused. The pressure lifted. And I was reminded that slowing down doesn’t mean everything falls apart.
Sometimes it actually brings clarity.
What do I really want to focus on in this season?
I do love having a clean home. But what can I let slide a little during this stage of life to leave room for things I want to do more of—like writing and canning? I used to read so much more. I want to bring that back into my life.
A Reset We Didn’t Plan
As moms especially, the weight feels heavier. We carry the invisible lists in our heads—meals, appointments, school reminders, laundry cycles, who needs what and when. We’re always preparing for the next thing.
Illness disrupts that rhythm it causes time for reflection.
It resets the pace.
It humbles us enough to admit we are not in control of everything.
Maybe things don’t always “happen for a reason” in a simple, neat way. But maybe God can use even sickness to realign us. To remind us that we are human. To gently show us that rest is not weakness—it is wisdom.
In a society that constantly moves from one thing to the next, being forced to stop can feel frustrating. But maybe the pause is where the lesson is.
Maybe in the stillness, we hear Him more clearly.
And maybe rest was never something to feel guilty about—but something we were designed to n