A Lesson in Rest

What I didn't expect from a 7-month sabbatical

Substack heard it first: I’m going back to work! I’m joining a fintech startup, and will be leading design for their core AI product. When I say leading design, I mean doing everything. It will be my first time as a sole designer, and I am so excited to set a foundation for product design at the company. As I’m wrapping up my last weeks of unstructured bliss, it’s been a sweet time of reflection.

I wouldn’t call the past seven months life-changing. I would call them heart-changing. I told myself no expectations, but secretly, I think I was hoping for a shiny new entrepreneurial career to emerge from this time of exploration. Instead, I learned how to rest in God’s plan for my life. I can’t help but ask myself, Didn’t I learn this lesson of trust years ago? It’s been a subtle shift from knowing that I trust Him, to feeling that rest so deeply.

I would be lying If I said it was all roses. I didn’t want to slow down, but had this immense feeling that I needed to. I felt restless and lacking purpose at times, unsure of what to do next and beautifully stuck in an uncomfortable dependance on God. My intuition whispered many times along the way,

Wait a little longer, Liv. Be patient.

September was my coastal unwinding. I went backpacking for the first time, enjoying the stillness and simplicity of waking up in the mountains and biking the hills of Mercer Island. Summer in Seattle was a treat. The wild blackberries sprawl over every sidewalk, and the fair weather makes you question the rainy reputation of the city.

Returning back home to Michigan, the moody September clouds were contrasted with the warmth of the lingering summer sun. One of my favorite days was spent at a remote beach far away from the Vineyard Vines and Chardonnay front porches of Harbor Springs. A short hike down a rooted path deposits you on miles of untouched lakeshore—the occasional sailboat drifts by but there are no geranium-lined docks in sight. The lake extends as far as you can see. I left my phone behind and walked the beach for hours, going for an occasional swim, journaling, and reading… God felt close.

The remainder of the month was filled with front porch coffees with Gramma Jane, working in the garden, day trips to the Upper Peninsula, and paddleboarding on the bay. If you let it take up space, simply living can occupy a lot of time. An early bike ride, picking peas in the garden, scrubbing dirt off leggy carrots, planning a meal, and cooking dinner for the family… that makes a full day.

As I packed up to return to Austin, I started to feel a little unsettled. I was letting go of where I thought life was headed in many ways. Design was a safe and familiar path, not to mention one I truly enjoyed. Was I making the right decision to step away from it?

My doubts were quickly swept under the rug come October. I’d already made a goal to write every day, so when the opportunity to join Write of Passage came up, it felt like it was meant to be. (Not to mention the serendipitous connection that started it all—my friend Jen, whom I met on Walloon Lake this past summer!)

I started class thinking I’d write exclusively about education. That quickly evolved into simply writing about whatever was on my heart. Writing has always been personal for me, and starting to bring others into the process was a new experience. I wrote about my childhood, my relationship with my dad, reconciling with unfulfilled desires, and my experience with meditation. It felt cathartic.

The fall also brought an opportunity to explore an idea seeded from a ridiculous career assessment I’d taken in high school. According to the evaluation, my two most compatible careers were Forestry and Bartending.

The woods were not calling, but the latter was. I started working at a neighborhood bar and got to dive into the world of natural wine. We’re talking unfiltered, beyond organic, low-intervention, biodynamic, natural wine. Funky wine. Minerality. Orange wine. Carbonic maceration. Unfortunately for my friends and family, I’ve gone too far and can’t drink any California blends unless they are verifiably not laced with Mega Purple and added sugars. I am spoiled on wine now.

The casual chatter at the bar and the always-on, very present-ness of the experience filled me up. I also got a reality check on the immense overhead it takes to run a physical space. My cute retirement dream of opening a wine bar and art gallery still exists, but I have a better understanding of what it might take to make it happen.

Around the holidays, my intuition started to nudge that this time of exploration was coming to a close. I’d pulled the threads and explored the ideas I was curious about—but nothing had kept me. I was a little let down not to discover this elusive other big thing that I might be meant for but grew increasingly excited to go back to the work I know and love in product design. I started putting together my portfolio and talking to companies.

Dozens of interviews. Portfolio reviews and final rounds. Near miss offers that were chalked up to the elusive “timing” or “we’ve changed what we’re looking for.”

I chose to be open and optimistic, praying that God would help me focus my time and energy on the places that mattered. February came. It was increasingly clear that my timeline for starting a new job was not going to be reality.

I can’t help but look back and sigh with a little laugh. Who was this girl running around on her little Eat, Pray, Love journey? Why was she worried? Why must she overthink everything? It’s funny how once you get what you want, the struggle to get there dissipates.

If I learned one thing in the past seven months, it is to trust God and rest in His plan. I hope the lessons from this season of life are cemented in me. I so quickly forget. I want to give up my own timeline and plans for what I think my life should look like, and be more tender to His.

I haven’t found an articulate way to wrap up this meandering reflection, but I do have a little moment that’s been on my mind (and speakers) all weekend. I went to see Keyland play the late show at Stubbs on Saturday evening. It’s the kind of music that makes you want to call your mom, go for a drive with the windows down and sip a lemonade on the front porch in the heat of summer. They played one of my favorite songs, Nothin’ But Restful.

Life spent with you
Is Nothin’ but restful
You fill my cup to the trim
And although I’m impatient
Insufferable and stubborn
Still you are quick to forgive

The song touches my heart every time I hear it. It brings to mind so many people and relationships in my life that show me love. Including my relationship with God—the one relationship I’m learning to orient myself around like never before.

A life trusting God—it’s restful.