Permission To Pause
- Becky Hunt
- Jun 2
- 3 min read
"Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
— Matthew 11:28 (NIV)
For years, I ran at full speed—through grief, through survival, through success. After losing my daughter Gracie at 82 days old, I dove headfirst into starting several businesses, including a nonprofit in her honor. I kept my hands busy, my mind full, and my calendar jam-packed—anything to outrun the pain.
I thought if I stayed productive enough, I could somehow escape the grief. I skipped meals, ignored rest, and wore my exhaustion like a badge of honor. I worked long hours and poured myself into every cause, every project, every opportunity—trying to fill the gaping hole left behind. And for a while, it worked. Or at least, it looked like it did. I smiled on the outside while unraveling on the inside.
Eventually, I crashed. I got really sick and burned out so completely that even getting out of bed felt impossible. My body shut down. My mind spiraled. I had given so much of myself away that there was nothing left to give. I knew something had to change, but I was terrified to slow down. What if stillness made the pain louder? What if rest made me feel it all over again?
We cannot pour out if we’re constantly running on empty.
Motherhood alone is exhausting. Add grief, chronic illness, or just the pressure to do it all, and it’s easy to find ourselves drowning in expectations. But Jesus didn’t say, “Come to me when you’ve got it all together.” He said, “Come to me, all who are weary.” That invitation is for the undone, the burnt out, the ones who need grace just to make it through the day.
I had to learn the hard way that rest isn’t laziness—it’s obedience.
It’s okay to pause. To say no. To take a nap. To let the laundry wait. God is not measuring your worth by how much you get done. He’s asking for your heart, not your hustle.
One of the most healing seasons of my life came after I let go of the pressure to produce. I took a step back. I stopped performing and started breathing again. I started walking instead of sprinting. I spent quiet mornings with my Bible open and no agenda. I let the tears fall without guilt. I let the house stay messy some days. I sat with the pain—not to fix it, but to finally let God sit with me in it.
God’s rest isn’t a reward for finishing the race—it’s the fuel that gets us through it.
Healing didn’t come all at once, but it did come. Not because I finally figured everything out, but because I finally stopped trying to do it all alone. If you’re tired, worn out, or just plain overwhelmed, hear this:
You don’t have to earn rest.
You don’t need permission from the world to slow down.
Jesus already gave it.
You are allowed to pause.
He will meet you there.
Your Fellow Able Mom,
Becky Hunt
Lord, I’m tired. I’ve been trying to do it all, and I need You. Help me to receive Your invitation to rest. Teach me to slow down, to be still, and to find strength in Your presence. Amen.
What would change in your life if you gave yourself permission to pause?
Connect With Becky:
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Email: hello@beckyhunt.net
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