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Appendix D
Rest for the Weary
Renewal for women through mini-sabbatical events
By Denele Ivins
(used with permission)
My hands gripped the steering wheel as my mini-van cut through the ranch-strewn countryside of eastern
Oregon. I was escaping to a retreat center for missionaries, in desperate need of rest and restoration. It had
been nine months since we packed up our lives in East Asia and returned to the U.S. After 18 years of Asian
life, our move back to the States was not a return “home,” but was a painful uprooting of what God had planted
deeply in the land where we raised our children and made disciples.
As I drove, rest and restoration seemed unlikely. All I could think of was what I’d left behind—my undone to-do
list and loose ends for my family in my absence. My mind raced with doubts and guilt: “I don’t really need to do
this,” “What kind of mother leaves her family for a week with an empty refrigerator?” and “I should have brought
my family along; they need it too.”
But as the miles passed, the almost-empty roads, the rural landscape and the quietness began to work magic.
My hands began to loosen their tense grip on the steering wheel. I already felt calmer—and hope was building
in me that God might use this time away to restore me.
Five days later, I retraced my journey on those rural roads. With the windows down and the radio off, my mind
was still busy, but with thoughts of a different type. As I thought of my husband and children and their needs
through our recent East-to-West transition, I was able to pray for them in a deeper, more trusting way than I
had for a long time. My heart for ministry, which had been numb for a stretch of time, was waking up. I
dreamed about the possibility of taking a group from our church back to our adopted land on a short-term
missions trip. I broke the nine-month musical silence when I sang praise songs in the privacy of my van. All at
once, as I maneuvered curving mountain roads, I realized that I was refreshed. Creativity and energy and
praise were returning—and hope had been restored.
THE ROAD TO RECOVERY
My five days at a missionary retreat center was just what I needed. But how did I even know that I needed to
get away? The truth is, that I was weary to my core and unable to take any action to help myself. Caring
brothers and sisters saw my condition and made a diagnosis: emotional exhaustion and possible burnout
because of the trauma of our transition back to life in the U.S. Beyond a diagnosis, God was gracious to give
them a prescription—a care plan to restore me back to emotional health.
Through debriefing with our church and the Navigators, I began to understand how very tired I was. I left China
tired, and then, as mom’s do, I set aside my need for rest to attend to the huge task of settling my children—
grades 6, 8 and 12—into their new lives in their passport country. Our sending organization very gently but
persistently suggested the value of taking a sabbatical after 18 years of serving overseas. My husband was
able to take a manner of one, but I found myself unable to even sit and read anything for more than five
minutes. The needs around me—carpooling, phone calls, dusty floors, and dirty dishes—seemed to scream at
me throughout my waking hours.
Across the table over lunch that week in Colorado, missionary care counselor Shirley Wilson asked me about
taking a sabbatical. My question, in a choked voice, was how could I even entertain the idea of a sabbatical—a
release from regular responsibilities to refresh and renew and learn—when I faced the task of guiding my
children through their transition, not to mention the relentlessness of the tasks of daily life. I can’t just take off
three months from life, I said.
Shirley saw my sense of drowning in my eyes—and she threw me a lifeline. “Why don’t you take mini-
sabbaticals?” she asked, coining a new phrase right then—mini-sabbatical events. With some well-placed
questions, Shirley guided me to discover what would best refresh me. My deepest longing, she helped me see,
was to get away by myself, in places with heavy doses of mountains and pine trees and quietness, where I
could rest, explore, hike, bike, read and pray.