A couple months ago, I left my job, and I launched myself into an unknown that I haven’t experienced in my professional life—sabbatical.
I’ve been working nonstop since before I graduated from college. In an office by a certain(ish) time, deadlines to meet, expectations to exceed, achievements to rack up. It can be hard to imagine that there’s another way to be.
But over the last several years, as I have considered how I want to apply my time and energy, to what I wanted my effort to accrue, and what really matters, I knew I had to stop.
I wanted a break, a rest, so badly, the time and space to listen to God, listen to myself, and figure out how I can make the most impact with this one wild life I have. How I walk to the end, whenever that is, and look back knowing I did and gave my best to work worth doing. Building things that last.
But all I knew was work, and I couldn’t see another way.
Until a friend asked me, why not… what would it take?
And something shifted, and opened, and I started thinking, and praying, and planning, about how to make a different way.
And slowly, the pieces started coming together.
Sabbatical has its roots in Shabbat, the Sabbath. It’s an ancient practice—a time to stop, rest, and trust in the provision of God. A resting space from which our work flows. We’re made to work from rest.
Deep down, I knew I couldn’t commit to any next step for my career, until I stopped.
It is the space for me to do the work to align my why to my what and my how. To co-create my future with my Creator. To do some more of the creative things that I haven’t really had to time to do in years.
Stepping into this time is thrilling and terrifying. When I gave notice near the beginning of the year, Covid19 was barely a twinkle in anyone’s eye. But even as the shutdowns began, I prayed, turned over the outcome, and the wooing to sabbatical time continued unabated.
So here I am. Wandering in the unknown.
Seeking with hope for what this sacred space holds.