The calendar says it’s fall.

You might not have noticed—your planner is packed, your mind overloaded, your heart heavy with a list that never ends. Assignments. Conversations. Appointments. Deadlines. Noise.

But outside, a different story is being written.

The wind whispers through trees that are shedding yesterday’s worries. 

Leaves crackle beneath your feet like tiny invitations to slow down.

The air smells like bonfires and cinnamon and something softer—something sacred.

The world is exhaling. 

Can you feel it?

This season, somewhere between the start of the semester and the upcoming holidays, you are invited to take a fall break. Not just a break from classes or responsibilities, but a Sabbath break—a sacred pause.

Not a retreat from meaning.

But a return to it.

Jesus knew the pace of the world. He walked dusty roads, healed aching bodies, answered endless needs. But He also withdrew. He stepped aside. He made time for stillness with the Father.

If He needed that, don’t we?

“Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” (Mark 6:31)

So what does a fall break look like for you?

Maybe it’s five minutes on your front porch, watching leaves fall like prayers. Maybe it’s a walk without your phone. Maybe it’s sipping something warm and whispering a short prayer. Maybe it’s opening your Bible, slowly reading Psalm 23, and actually letting Him lead you beside still waters.

Let this be a break for your soul:

·         What do you hear? The wind in the trees, your own breath slowing.

·         What do you see? Golden light slanting through branches, reminders that beauty is still here.

·         What do you smell? The earth, the change of seasons, maybe even a memory.

·         What do you feel? A worn-out hoodie. The warmth of a mug. The ache of your muscles—yes, you are tired.

·         What do you remember? A walk with a friend. A laugh around a fire. A quiet moment that didn’t feel rushed.

·         What do you dream? Of peace. Of joy. Of not feeling so hurried and held together by a thread.

Let all of that be part of your prayer.

Even now, as you read this, let your breath slow. Let your worries go. Let the Shepherd restore your soul.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,

he refreshes my soul.” (Psalm 23:2–3)

The world may be in a hurry. But you don’t have to be.

Take your fall break. Even if it’s short. Even if it’s silent. Even if it’s just one deep breath that you didn’t have time for until now.

Because He’s waiting for you beside still waters. Because He still restores souls.

Even in October.

Especially in October.