How Parenting Is Teaching Me Notes of Rest: Lessons from the first month
Photo by McKenna Phillips on Unsplash
This post originally appeared on Julian Davis Reid’s substack called “Notes of Rest,” a weekly newsletter about music, Christian faith, and rest to promote the practice of contemplation & creativity. Read more and subscribe here.
Thank you for the warm wishes on the birth of my sweet little Lydia last month. It is a blessing to write for a community that celebrates such big milestones. What a marvel it is to have a child. There really are no words to do it justice. My favorite moments to savor are when she opens her eyes for the first time after a nap, and when she makes eye contact with me as she practices lifting her head, and when Carmen, Lydia and I sit on the couch together. The list goes on, but that begins to count the ways.
A few of you have expressed interest in what parenthood will do to my sense of rest. I’m sure that will be a lifelong journey, but here are a few quick insights from the first month.
When we rest, others get to rest too.
When Lydia sleeps multiple hours a night, we all get to rest. (Ha - when.) And that reminds me of how the logic of Sabbath in Scripture is centered on the idea that when the people of Israel receives God’s gift of rest, those who work for them, the foreigners who live in their midst, the other animals, and the land get to rest too.
We tire others out without realizing it.
On the other hand, Lydia has no idea how her erratic sleep schedule tires Carmen and me. To be sure, we are happily exhausted - we oftentimes find ourselves laughing at 2 in the morning - but it is exhaustion nonetheless.
Similarly, we the writer and readers of this post exhaust others whether we realize it. Capitalism has made it such that we exhaust bodies and lands routinely, our own included, in our pursuit of fanciful fairy tales of never ending wealth (e.g., Greta Thunberg). And what’s worse, the means of our life as is often occluded from us, such that we don’t have a real sense of what life costs. (I always find it odd that we can put a price on an apple. What does it actually cost us?)
Now, Lydia is not to blame at all for the exhaustion she causes. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. The sista just wants to feed and be held. Amen to her knowing what she needs, ha.
To some extent, we are like her. We do not singlehandedly control the factories and the governments and the IG algorithms that promote our exhaustion and the exhaustion of the world. And we do not understand all that we do. However, unlike Lydia, we do have some sense of what we are doing and should be held responsible for the ways we exhaust. Let us pay attention.
Resting - truly resting - calls for faith in God’s provision.
Working in the gig economy, which is supported in part through the paid segment of this Substack (thank you, subscribers!), means that for the most part my paternity leave was unpaid. I had saved money for that, but still felt the precarity. Being off in mid-August and September meant that I was missing a big part of the music festival season. I had to turn off Instagram at some point because I just kept having fear of missing out (Fomo) as I saw my colleagues playing all over the world. It was a tension. Lydia was here! My world was forever changed with joy unspeakable. But still, the show had to go on elsewhere, and people found subs for me.
My internal struggles during paternity leave were thus an excellent revealer of my own vulnerability and need for Notes of Rest. The message I preach to all of y’all is what I needed myself. Even as a freelancer, even as a musician, even (and especially) as a new father, rest was called for, and I had to believe God would provide.
I return now to the work of Notes of Rest with increased confidence that God will provide. Just this week, I am putting the finishing touches on my debut solo project of original music, called Candid EP, and just signed a literary agent deal for my forthcoming book on Notes of Rest. (More on both of these later.) God is good and his mercy endures forever, and I am trusting God to continue providing for me and my family in the ways that draw me deeper into faith. As I have said before, Notes of Rest is more than a session or catchphrase - it is a lifestyle, one that yields and lives by faith.
Rest invites community.
As we rested as a family during this month, people came to bring food through meal trains from our church and Carmen and my families holding us down. People I speak to a few times a year, or a few time a decade, reached out to care. I was blown away by the tokens of grace. We didn’t “earn” compassion. Every meal, card, gift card, overnight stay, and onesie was a gift, and we have tried to receive it as such. I admittedly felt guilty at times for such care. I can take care of Lydia. I am present to care for her and Carmen. I will step up to the plate. But there again, I was missing the point. People weren’t assessing my capacity to care. They were celebrating the new life and offering me a gift. I was humbled by what all I needed to receive. (I wonder if toxic masculinity made it harder for me to just simply receive care.)
1 John 1:10 puts it well: If we say that we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and [Jesus’] word is not in us. I approach my career as an artist-theologian with thankfulness that my public work in helping folk hear the rest for which they were created is directly connected to my private work in hearing it myself. I’d be a hypocrite to otherwise cut off this link. When anxiety arose during paternity leave about what the future held, I could look at my sweet Lydia and realize that I, like she, was in need of constant care from God.
For all of the parents on this thread, and for all who have been parented, I pray that this new chapter of my life in Notes of Rest can encourage you to humbly seek Notes in yours. God calls and God saves, and that saving brings good rest for our souls, minds, bodies, and for the rest of creation. It’s dope that something as miraculous and life-changing as Lydia’s arrival can teach me that, again.
Abundantly,
Julian
Julian Davis Reid
Julian Davis Reid is an artist-theologian who uses words and music to invite us into the restful lives we were created to live. He is a founding member of the jazz-electronic fusion group The JuJu Exchange and hosts contemplative retreats called Notes of Rest.
Julian has performed and spoken throughout the country and around the world, and he has released three studio albums, the latest being Rest Assured, a collection of hymns on solo piano. He earned his M.Div. at Candler School of Theology at Emory University and his B.A. in philosophy at Yale University. He and his wife Carmen live and worship in his hometown Chicago.
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