2019 was the year I lost my best friend, my dog Jude.
I lost my father-in-law to complications of heart disease and cancer.
And I had a heart attack.

Those three things have been devastating. They’ve been heavy. They’ve been lingering. But those three things have also taught me. They’ve taught me that it’s ok to stop.

It’s ok to stop and cry.
It’s ok to stop and let go.
It’s ok to stop and grieve.
It’s ok to stop and ask for help.
It’s ok to stop and slow down.
It’s ok to stop doing it on your own and seek professional help.

And it’s ok to stop running.

That last one has some extra weight to it because running for me means a lot of different things. I run from my emotions. I run from my pain. I run from chaos. And I run, literally. Or at least, I have.

For the past 10 years, I’d say at least four days a week I’d lace up my running shoes and crank out miles. There were times I enjoyed it. There were times I used it to connect with God. There were times it was life-giving. But there were also times I did it just because I felt like I had to.

But then, on a run one day I started having crazy symptoms and ended up having a heart attack later that day. I literally had to stop running because I couldn’t continue. Then, after surgery, I had to give my body time to rest.

As of today, I haven’t run for three and a half months. While my emotions are mixed about it, the most important thing I’ve learned is that it’s ok. For years I was afraid to stop running. I was afraid I would lose the strength I had gained. I was afraid I’d gain weight. I was afraid I’d slide backwards.

So I kept pushing and pushing and pushing, until I couldn’t anymore. I was forced to stop and when I did I realized that, sometimes, stopping can be a good thing. In fact, it can be a great thing.

I needed to stop running to reconnect with my enjoyment of slowing down and just being outside.
I needed to stop running from my emotions and grief and cry as often and as long as necessary.
I needed to stop trying to fix the pain my husband and I were feeling and just accept it.
I needed to stop and reasses my life and what I wanted (and want) it to look like.
And so that’s what I’m doing. I’ve decided that I want 2020 to be a year marked by rest. Not sitting on the couch, scrolling through Instagram kind of rest, but true, deep rest.

I don’t know exactly what it will look like, but I think it will include more walks, more reading, more journaling, more praying, more slowing down, more yoga, more quiet time with God, more acceptance, and more discovering joy.

After last year, that sounds pretty darned amazing.