Summery hues are skipping into view: deep green verdant hills, bold beach-towel stripes, drippy, fruity popsicles. Suddenly, we find ourselves creating road-trip playlists, building s’mores to eat under the stars, singing with the crowd at a baseball game, or smiling as we scrub garden soil from under our fingernails.
A word is floating on the breeze, and it calls us back to Eden. Rest.
As the six of us respond to the theme of Rest, notice what emerges in your own soul. Here is Tiffani’s perspective:
My day begins with rest.
Well, first I wake from sleep and gently ease my aging body out of the warm bed. Only then can I meander my way through the morning routines that serve as daily nourishment for body, mind, and spirit: movement, coffee, reading, prayer, and stillness. My whole being responds to these rhythms, preparing me for the day to come.
And, when I practice both movement and stillness, I carry rest throughout my day. Movement and Stillness. One active. One passive. Both are forms of rest.
I wake up tight. I used to make fists all night. The dentist chastised me for clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth. In bed, I curve my body into the smallest possible shape—perhaps an unconscious return to the comfort of the womb. I need to unfurl myself for the day. I move to loosen my limbs from sleep. To stretch and strengthen my muscles. To encourage my blood to circulate. To not forget the breath.
Active rest.
Then, I practice physical stillness and silence to allow my mind to breathe. She has been fussing about all night: processing the day, cataloging experiences to create memories, making sense of the past, generating complex dreams, sorting out the next day’s puzzles.
Even if I can’t perceive this nocturnal activity, my conscious mind is set in motion by raising my eyelids: to-do lists, conversations-in-waiting, what I didn’t finish yesterday. What will I eat? What will I wear? Where will I go? My friend, the night owl, laughs when I tell her what I have accomplished by 9 am.
If I don’t stop before the day begins, there will be no rest. So I sit quietly. I close my eyes or watch for the light. I practice a breath prayer, and my heart is quiet. Nothing to do except receive God’s love.
Passive rest.
Morning by morning, as I practice movement and stillness, I welcome the gift of rest. Then, I carry it into my day. At a moment’s notice, I can return to the first things of the day. To these gentle ways—moving, stopping, being. With my whole self present and attuned, I listen more clearly: to myself, to others, to the Spirit of God.
My day begins with rest.
I’m curious: How does your day begin? What do you carry into your day?
Tiffani offers spaces for listening and learning as a Christ-centered spiritual director, life and leadership coach, and occasional retreat leader. Through this work, she creates room amid the complexities of life and work for the weary and wondering to feel heard, receive care, discover clarity, and find rest in God. You can join her personal Substack, The Sustained Soul, or visit Quotidian Joy to learn more about working together.
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©Tiffani Boerio 2026 Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
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