Here in this garden, I remember all the things that I have done and all the things that were left undone. I think about the butternut that we will not be storing in the rafters this year because I did not keep up with the squash bugs. I also think of the mounds of grape jam that we have laid up because this year we had more grapes than ever before. 

I remember the juicy peaches of summer and the boxes of apples and pears set aside for the winter. I did not plant the napa cabbage in time for a fall harvest, nor did I pickle a single cucumber. 

I know a gardener’s work is never done. But there is a point where we do stop. We must pause, lay down our tools, and enter into rest. This is it. 

******

It is a crisp early spring night in England. I have arrived as part of a rag-tag team of twenty-somethings at a tiny rectory in the small town of Dukinfield. We have come for the next week to help lead a kid’s camp hosted by the local Anglican church. 

We have just finished laying out our sleeping bags on the floor. An elderly deacon arrives and passes out small, poorly printed, hand-bound prayer booklets. I read the front of the book: “Prayers for COMPLINE.” 

I am utterly unfamiliar with liturgy, but my tongue takes to the gentle words like long-lost friends. All road and soul weariness are set aside for the moment. The last rays of light have faded. We end on the final words: “Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping; that awake we may watch with Christ and asleep we may rest in peace.” Then the elderly officiant ends our time with “The almighty and merciful Lord, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, bless us and keep us, this night and evermore. Amen.”

This normally rowdy crew is silent. We say quiet goodbyes to the deacon and settle into our sleeping bags on the creaking wooden floor. I do not fall asleep immediately. I mull over this “new” world I have stumbled into where poetry meets prayer and the night is situated within an ordered, albeit still fraught, world. I roll the words over silently in my heart: “rest in peace.” 

For as long as I can remember, the act of rest has been a challenge. For me, rest, silence, and sleep represent a place of fear. I have had night terrors all my life. Each night, as the light fades, dread grows. I began to avoid the dreaded silence of the night by reading or listening to audiobooks until my body would tuck me into sleep, far from the reach of my troubled thoughts. 

The next day, when I saw the deacon again, I asked if I could have a copy of the compline prayer. He handed me one of the booklets, and for the next several years, it became a constant prayer before bed. As a young twenty-something, I lived in a tumult of space, tossed by needs, demands, and desires. 

This prayer of compline became a signifier to my mind and body that now is indeed the time to sleep. Slowly, my mind and body learned to enter into the rest of night, and I learned to rest in peace. 

******

I could work hard for the garden all winter, sharpening tools, honing spreadsheets, perfecting planting plans, and researching new growing methods. Farms and homesteads have a gravity, and they want to be all-consuming. They will be all-consuming. But if we truly want to be a people who live sustainably with and on the land, we must learn rhythms of rest.

I use the term rhythms of rest because each person, family, land, and culture are vastly different. Our family has a yearly rhythm of rest that happens in the winter. If you are a family working in a warmer climate, that may not be an appropriate rhythm for you. Our family’s daily rhythms in the summer are very different than in the spring or fall. 

I have come to learn that rest is not something you do or take but something that must be enacted. Rest requires planning, intentionality, and a lot of tenacity. It’s okay if you are not good at those things; I certainly am not. But it is as vital as watering your plants or animals. Nothing else will thrive without it. 

The prayer of compline is the last of a series of prayers that happen throughout the day called the Prayers of the Hours. Each prayer time practically matches the time of day. In the morning, the prayers are more lengthy and thoughtful. In contrast, the midday and afternoon prayers are short and sweet. 

The prayers also contain elements appropriate to what might happen during the day. For example, in the morning, there is an element of anticipation and newness. However, by the time you get to afternoon prayers, there is an acknowledgment of limitation, of incompleteness, and the desire to finish well.

I feel a similar rhythm as I move through our year. Spring reminds me of morning prayers with all of its hope and anticipation. Summer is by far our most intense and rigorous season. Our rituals of rest during this time are most needed, and they are also pared down to their bare essentials. In the fall, we slow down just a little bit; we begin to acknowledge our limitations. And in the winter, we rest. 

Here are a few of our yearly, seasonal, weekly, and daily rhythms. If you are tired, overwhelmed, and overrun, I hope this can be a picture of possibility. I also want to say that rest and peace are not the exclusive domain of a few with the right kind of cash flow. I believe that there is rest and peace that is deeper than circumstance and available to all. 

Yearly

• Look over the whole year and ask: What do we/I need for well-being this year?
• Take a vacation: This can be a staycation, a house trade, or something more extravagant. Play and have fun.
• Set a time to review what you said you need for well-being. Are you doing those things?

Weekly

• Take a day of rest.
• Remember the previous week and look forward to the following week.
• Plan intentional time with each person in your household.

Daily

• Break your day up into sections that make sense to your life. Take an intentional pause at the beginning of each section.
• Make a morning and evening chores list. Be faithful to completing the list.
• Take intentional time to remember what happened during the day. Notice what brought joy. Notice what was hard.

Seasonally

• Spring: This is our time for planning, organizing, and building systems. This is a great time to clean up and get rid of junk. I also use this time to restore my body. I focus on herbs and teas like nettle, red raspberry, and cleaners that are replenishing and also move lymph. During this time, we eat the last of our stored food while adding early spring greens, asparagus, and radish. 
• Summer: This is all hands on deck, running hard and strong; it is the time of growing the harvest, of storing up. During the summer, I make teas of bright, refreshing herbs like lemon balm, lemongrass, and ginger. I also hone in on adaptogenic herbs such as tulsi and maca for my energy and stamina. During this time, we eat more cold food: quinoa salads, quick sandwiches, and leftovers from the grill. We cook outside a lot to keep our house cool.
  
• Fall: This is when we begin to slow down a little. We are still harvesting and preserving, but we turn our attention to buttoning up the garden, planting cover crops, and finishing well. This is when we begin harvesting herbal roots. We start to drink roasted root teas and spicy herbal chai. Our meals are more soups, breads, and braised meat with lots of sautéed greens and salads.
• Winter: This is our time for rest. We still have work to do; however, we move at a slower pace. We take time to read books and study. We do most of our focused writing during this time. We also have a lot of winter celebrations. Each week in December holds a different celebration: the Feast of St. Nicholas, St. Lucia Day, Winter Solstice and, of course, Christmas and New Years. 

During this time, I drink marshmallow tea to soothe dryness that comes from running a wood stove all winter, and I often start the day with a shot of fire cider or a bit of elderberry syrup to boost immunity. My kids make sure I do some extra baking, and the added heat helps warm the house. 

******

The almighty and merciful Lord, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, bless us and keep us, this night and evermore. Amen.