Journal of Sacred Work

Today's meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice President for the Baptist Healing Trust.

   The concept of respite is known but not well practiced among many caregivers. Several dictionary definitions suggest its meaning: "a brief interval of rest or relief; a pause from doing something (as work); an interruption in the intensity or amount of something; a breather, breathing place, or breathing space." Merriam-Webster Dictionary notes the word originates from Middle English respit and Medieval Latin respectus, and refers to "the act of looking back."

For the caregiver, respite may offer an opportunity for a short rest, for time away from the responsibilities related to those being served. Time away can refresh, but as the origins of the word suggest, it can also offer the opportunity for renewed perspective, for a renewal of one's sense of grounding and stability in a world of chaos and turmoil. For caregivers, respite is not an occasional luxury to be savored but a necessity as vital as the air we breathe.

Some researchers believe that respite is best when it is regularly planned and experienced. Respite should provide enough time to do something that replenishes and renews, although the what, where, when, and how will be deeply personal. Researchers believe respite is most renewing when anticipated and planned for. Yet for many caregivers, time away from one's called work is still filled with giving care to others – our families, our friends, our communities, our homes.

Every caregiver needs intervals of rest, a pause from caring for someone else no matter how much we love and seek to serve. On a recent silent retreat, I was encouraged to "come away" and enjoy my time, not use it. I experienced the freedom of sitting idly, soaking in the colors of the sun's setting. I sat quietly with colored pencils in my lap, at times drawing, at times just looking at the edge where wood meets wax and wondering. Sitting apart gives voice to the call of my heart, where with candor and leisure I can soak in the sounds of Love. And each time I "come away", I return with more clarity, more surety, more care to give.

So, dear care giver, how will you make time apart today? Will you "come away"? Where will you make a place to breathe, to rest, to refresh, to soak in the sounds of Love?