Sundays used to make me restless. The quiet, the stillness, they made me uncomfortable. When the world slows down and you have nowhere to be, silence can sound deafening. It’s in those moments that your thoughts start whispering the truths you’ve been too busy to hear.
But over the years, I’ve learned that stillness isn’t something to run from. It’s something to lean into.
And maybe that’s what Sundays are really for:
- to pause,
- to breathe,
- to listen, and
- to remember who you are beneath all the noise.
The Lesson That Changed Everything
When I was fighting for custody of my children, I learned the real meaning of stillness. My case worker told me something I’ll never forget: Be still.
Those two words became my armor.
At the time, I didn’t understand what she meant. I thought being still was the same as doing nothing and when your life feels like it’s falling apart, doing nothing feels unbearable. But what she really meant was to move with wisdom, not emotion.
Instead of engaging in every argument or reacting to every provocation, I started writing. I journaled everything, my thoughts, my fears, my plans, my truth. And in the process, I found strength in my silence.
By being still, I became unpredictable. My “enemies” didn’t know my next step, but I did because I was moving from clarity, not chaos.
That lesson carried me far beyond the courtroom. It became a principle I now live by: being still isn’t about surrendering.
It’s about standing so firmly in your truth that you don’t need to explain it to anyone.
Stillness as a Form of Healing
Stillness heals what hurry breaks.
When you stop rushing to respond, to fix, to prove, you give your heart the time it needs to mend. You begin to see that not everything requires your energy, that sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is to pause before you pour.
Healing doesn’t always come from doing more; it often comes from being still enough to notice what needs your attention the most — you.
In stillness, you remember who you are without the noise of other people’s opinions. You learn that peace isn’t found in control but in surrender.
And that surrender — quiet, steady, sacred is the heart of healing.
The Quiet Kind of Strength
Stillness doesn’t mean weakness. It means wisdom.
It means knowing when to step back so you can see the bigger picture. It means choosing silence not because you have nothing to say, but because you no longer need to prove anything.
I’ve come to realize that the strongest people are often the quietest. They listen more than they speak. They move in silence, but their actions echo loudly.
Being still has helped me win my biggest battles not just in courtrooms or conflicts, but in the quiet wars within myself.
A Sunday Prayer for Stillness
If this Sunday finds you weary, uncertain, or at a crossroads, I hope you give yourself permission to be still.
No fighting. No forcing. Just breathing.
Stillness is not giving up. It’s giving yourself space to hear what your heart has been trying to tell you all along.
May you find peace in your pause, clarity in your silence, and strength in the moments where nothing seems to be happening because that’s often when everything is quietly falling into place.
Ready to thrive solo? Download the Thrive Starter Kit.
Related Posts:
Why Silence Can Heal What Words Can’t
The Art of Being Alone Without Feeling Lonely
The Beauty of Doing Life Alone — and Loving It