I’m not some kind of super-spiritual person, I swear.

It’s true that I work as the Pastor of a small congregation and I’ve come to realize that people have certain perceptions of what that means. (ex, I’ve noticed is that people often apologize when they say a curse word in my presence, something I find highly amusing.)

And while I do have what I hope is a vibrant and sustaining Christian faith, I never want people to think that my brain isn’t full of the same stuff that fills the brains of most women in my life stage, during a global pandemic:

What’s for dinner? When was the last time the kids had a shower? How many snacks to they need, for crying out loud?! When is that bill due? Are my kids getting too much screen time? What can we even do besides screen time? Which car needs an oil change? Do we need oil changes when we don’t go anywhere? What about online learning? What about my pelvic floor? What about date night or climate change or Canada’s economic recovery!?!

You know. Same old.

So when I write one of my very sporatic blog posts and I use a fancy Hebrew word like Sabbath (Shabbat, I believe it is in Hebrew,) I’d really hate for you to get the wrong idea about me.

I didn’t decide to try out a new spiritual discipline during a global pandemic because I’m “spiritual.”

I did it to save my life.

This year, I did something I’d never done before. I took our two young sons, ages 6 and 4 on a vacation without my spouse. We went away to a cottage with friends for March Break. The boys did great, and the whole experience was lovely and full of friends and nature and Lego time.

But from the time we stopped at a nearby gas station to fill up our Santa FE before making the 5 hours journey home, everything changed. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that from the minute my I had cell reception and internet access again, the changes that had already happened in the world while I had been away began to catch up with me.

From that first gas station, my phone (blessedly silent for 5 days) was pinging and buzzing with all the energy of a toddler on a sugar high. Emails, conversation threads, questions that needed answers. As I drove along the highway I spoke (hands-free, of course) with a member of our board about all that was happening, and what we were going to do about it.

After I pulled in the driveway on Friday March 20, 2020, I kissed my husband and hurried off to the computer to write and read important emails to and from the dear folks in our congregation who, very appropriately, needed to know how our church was responding to this global emergency, and what supports and connections were in place for them during this time. How Sunday would look now? How anything would look now? We didn’t know.

All of the sudden school was closed. Daycare was closed. My spouse was laid off and I was “working from home,” as we both tried to navigate these new realities.

During my first week home, in the midst of all of these adjustments, we also found out that I was pregnant with our third child.

Now let me say that I know how much easier we had things than many people. We are not working “on the front lines,” we have each other to share the parenting, I am able to concentrate at work thanks to my husband’s good care of our boys during the day. We have things far easier than many people. I know that, and I’m grateful.

But even so, it was just… a lot.

From the time my boys and I pulled into that gas station and I turned on my mobile data, I felt “at work” all the time (not to be confused with being productive all the time).

My phone was always going off. Someone always had a question or a need. All of the sudden we were being forced into new areas of ministry and technology and the learning curve was steep. There always seemed to be a glitch with the tech or a gap in the communication, some people needed help to use these new online ways of staying connected, which after all the extra effort and patience required were destined to be better than nothing, but still nowhere near as good as the face-to-face we had lost. It was exhausting for all of us.

Over the past year, before the pandemic, I had been slowly learning what it means to pay attention to my own mental health, something I had mostly ignored for most of my life. Spiritual disciplines had been an important part of that journey for me, but Sabbath, the cessation of all work for one 24 hour period, was one I had not yet tried.

At first I thought it just wasn’t possible.

What young parent can have a whole day where they don’t do laundry or household chores or try to catch up on the work emails that didn’t get sent during the week because of having our kids at home with us all the time?! Isn’t that what we do? Isn’t that just the way of it? You go to “work” for 5 days (Sunday-Thursday for me) then you do all your domestic work on the other two days: paid work, unpaid work. It’s the North American Way.

But as the COVID-19 Pandemic took hold, and we all settled uneasily into “the new normal,” I realized that without some serious changes to my life, I wasn’t going to make it.

I was exhausted always, overwhelmed often, and intimidated by the need to be “a non-anxious presence” for my congregation. I wasn’t non-anxious. At least, not most of the time.

I was spending more time on screens than I was used to, and more time on social media which, for me, is a minefield of comparison. Some of us are tempted to compare whether we’re as good looking as others, some of us compare parenting, Me? I tend to compare blog posts, sermons, church websites and how “spiritual” I am compared with all the pastors from all corners of the internet.

Yes, I hear how ridiculous that all sounds. Yes. I hear the words of my own sermons coming back to haunt me. But when things are not ok in my head, comparison is the well-worn path my thoughts tend to tread.

Sabbath was a bit of a last ditch effort, a Hail Mary.

What would happen if for 24 hours, I gave myself permission to stop?

What would happen?

What’s the worst that could happen if I tried it?

What’s the worst that could happen if I didn’t?

I had been working my way through a helpful book at the cottage which had been gifted to me by a friend, The Emotionally Healthy Leader by Peter Scazzero. In this book the author, himself a pastor, speaks candidly about how he learned to care for his own mental and emotional health, and nurture his own marriage and family while at the same time leading others. This is a tall order, and although he already knew it would require significant sacrifice, he admits to being wrong about who and what he should sacrifice- and the answers surprised him. And the answers are surprising me too.

One of the things he discusses about his own recovery is how his need to stop, rest and play was something he ignored for a long, long time. There was always more work to do, there was always a need to be addressed, an email to send. And besides, this was God’s work, right? How could he justify something as selfish as stopping, not just to recover enough strength to do it all over again, but stopping for the fun of it, to stop for delight?!

It was that word, I think, more than anything, that caught my attention, “delight.”

I’ve always been a serious person. It is not easy for me to relax or to play. ‘Ain’t nobody got time for that! There is always so much to do!

Every morning, when I open my eyes (and often before) the day comes roaring at me like a freight train of demands. Things my family needs, things our church needs, things that have been on the back burner in either of those arenas that we really should get to. As I write it out now, I guess we could call this “worry,” though I never thought of it this way. I just thought that’s how everybody’s days always started. I was always baffled by people who could “turn off” long enough for a nap, or to really enjoy themselves. I’ve been known to get annoyed at my husband for taking a nap on a Saturday.

But delight…the word drew me like a magnet. Delight, for its own sake, every single week!?! Delight that was not just permissible, but commanded by God!?!

⁸ Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

⁹ Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy work:

¹⁰ But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy manservant, nor thy maidservant, nor thy cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates:

¹¹ For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it.

Ex 20:8-11

I was intrigued. And I was very, very tired (hellooooo 1st trimester!)

So, after a few good conversations with my husband and a rearrangement of when we would get the household chores done…I decided to try it. 24 hours, no work. No laundry. No banking. No bills. No Grocery Shopping. No cleaning. No news or social media and all cell phone notifications turned off

(I should say that parenting is something I do not take a break from. If my kids spill something, I help them clean it up. When they need lunch, I make it, just so you’re not worried)

All the literature I had read about Shabbat indicated that more than being about the things you can’t or don’t do, it was mostly about not doing those things to make room for other things. For rest, for celebration, for play, for prayer.

Over the past 4 years, my family has learned a lot about this principle from the process of learning to keep to a budget. We budget not to restrict ourselves, but to create space and freedom for things that matter. So we eat out less (this was before the pandemic, of course) SO THAT we don’t have do deal with debt, so that car repairs don’t stress us anymore, so that we can give more money away to causes and charities doing work that matters to us.

It took some getting used to, but it wasn’t long at all before what initially seemed restrictive turned out to be FREEDOM! A $600.00 car repair bill I can pay for in cash with a shrug? Freedom! The flexibility to help out an overseas charity buy a new computer, because they’re affected by the pandemic too? Freedom!

And Sabbath, has proven the same.

For me, the most obvious difference is 24 hours where I give myself permission not to worry. Yes, there are things we need to address for the church, yes there are rooms in our house that need our attention. Yes, there is no shortage of work to be done, and all the news getting coverage still appears to be bad news, but on the Sabbath, I am allowed, even commanded by God, to just.stop.worrying.

You’d think (certainly I did) that after so long of worrying and fretting and “checking” on everything all the time, I might not even be capable of this kind of stopping anymore. But to my own surprise, I can do this. And I love to do it.

One thing I’ve been learning in my journey toward mental health, is to listen to my body.

While my brain and my words are so busy all the time convincing myself and others that it’s all good, my body calls my bluff every single time. When I lie awake in the night “planning,” when I wake up with a sore jaw from clenching tightly all night long. When I can’t exhale, can’t sleep, can’t sit down or stop thinking….that’s my body’s way of telling me that all is not well. The check engine light is on.

So while my mind fretted about this whole sabbath thing and whether or not it was ok, my body embraced it wholeheartedly, even without my brain’s permission! Like when you breathe in after a long time holding your breath. Like your first drink of water after a long, hot walk.

Yes. Yes. This is what we need. This is what we have been waiting for.

I love my work, and am grateful for it. It is an honour to serve our congregation and to learn from them. (caveat: many people in my congregation are way better at the whole mental health thing than me. I’m forunate to be able to learn from them)

But on my Sabbath, I don’t worry about being anyone’s Pastor. On the Sabbath, I’m just Erin. I’m a child of God.

On the Sabbath, when my 4 year old asks if I want to play Lego with him, I can say yes, without thinking about all the other things I “should” do instead. When our six year old wants to teach me how to play Minecraft, I can say yes. I have no plans. No agenda. No laundry.

When my husband kisses me on the Sabbath, I kiss him back in the uncomplicated way that is not so easy for me on other days.

On the Sabbath, I paint if I feel like it. Or I go for an unhurried walk. I soak up the sun on our back deck or spend time staring at flowers and trees just because they are beautiful.

On the Sabbath I remember the prayer I pray quietly to myself every morning:

“You are God, and I am not.”

But on the Sabbath I find I can more easily believe it.

One thing Sczarro says in The Emotionally Healthy Leader, is that practicing the sabbath is the single most important thing he does for his leadership.

I’m not sure yet whether this will hold true for me. But I know it’s the single most important thing I have done for my own mental and spiritual health, for my marriage and my relationships with my children and most importantly, for my relationship with God since the pandemic began. It is the single most important thing I’ve found that keeps me sane and helps me hold on to the truth that God, not me, keeps the world spinning on its axis day in, day out.

So no, I am not a super spiritual woman by my own standards. Nor am I super-human.

I’m human. And God is God. And that’s ok with me.