The Quiet Season
There comes a point in every journey — especially for those of us who have spent a lifetime holding everything together — when life whispers a simple truth:
You don’t have to push right now.
This week on Resilience in Real Life, I talked about something we rarely permit ourselves to feel: the quiet season. That tender, unhurried space when the world inside of us asks for less, not because we’re failing, but because we’re becoming.
When the World Softens
When I returned to Florida this year, I expected noise, motion, and heat. What surprised me was how soft everything felt.
The quiet wasn’t in the mountains I’d left behind — it was in me.
After decades of believing movement equaled meaning, I’m learning that stillness has a meaning of its own. Like a winter garden that appears barren but is gathering strength below the frost line, quiet seasons nourish us in ways that constant activity never can.
The Space Between Who We Were and Who We’re Becoming
There is a strange, tender discomfort that comes with the “in-between.”
The job is gone.
The chapter is closed.
The old identity no longer fits, but the new one hasn’t yet taken form.
I’ve lived in that place this year. Grieving roles I thought I’d hold forever, stepping away from work that once defined me, starting over when I didn’t think I’d have to.
For a while, it felt like a loss. Now it feels like incubation, a necessary cocoon before the next unfolding. Transformation is quiet work. It happens in shadows long before we ever see the light.
Learning to Rest Without Apology
People like us — caregivers, high-achievers, overfunctioners — aren’t taught how to rest. We’re taught to persevere. We’re praised for pushing through.
But rest is not surrender. Rest is preparation. It’s the moment the body whispers truths the mind has been too busy to hear: You’re tired. You’re changing. You need space to breathe.
When we stop long enough to listen, clarity begins to rise like a tide.
A Question for You
Before the day runs away from you, take five quiet minutes and ask:
What requires rest in me right now?
A role that has outlived its purpose? An old fear? A habit of striving that no longer serves you? You don’t have to fix anything. Just acknowledge it. That’s how rest begins — gently, honestly, without force.
We Don’t Have to Rush Our Seasons
As the days grow shorter and the evenings soften, I’m reminded that nature never rushes her becoming. She trusts the slower rhythm. She trusts the unseen work beneath the surface. So can we.
“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” This is the quiet season — yours and mine.
A time to listen.
A time to heal.
A time to trust that something new is forming, even if we can’t yet name it.
Thank you for sharing this moment with me.
“Rest is not retreat — it’s renewal.”
— Catherine Schaffer
Savage Grace Series: Resilience in Real Life
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🎧 Listen to the episode: https://open.spotify.com/episode/1aObj67C5NbzhDFBWYvI5S?si=oI65EytmQ5Ga8_zFibqcFw