I do not like bugs. AT ALL. Given the choice between a forest trail and a comfortable chair indoors, I have always chosen the chair, and I have never felt bad about it.

So it surprised me a little when I stood in a closing circle this August and heard myself say that my intention was to spend more time in nature.

Let me back up.

In early August, I spent three days at Wingspread in Racine, Wisconsin, at a convening for leaders of Chicago nonprofit organizations. The question at the center of our time together was a big one: how do we build organizational resilience in a time of constant change? Anyone leading in the nonprofit sector right now knows that question is not theoretical. Leaders have been making hard decisions about operations, staffing, and even mission, all while supporting teams who are carrying heavier workloads and real anxiety about what comes next.

What made this convening different was how it was designed. It was intentionally spacious. There was a kickoff dinner and a closing circle, and in between, we were invited to choose our own pathway. The time was meant to be whatever we needed it to be.

If you have ever been handed open time after months of back to back obligations, you know that can feel harder than a packed agenda. When nobody tells you what to do with your time, you have to decide. And deciding requires you to know what you need.

What I needed was to be with people, and to be outside.

On Thursday, those of us who had arrived early shared a relaxed lunch. On Friday morning, I went down to the beach near the lighthouse with a few of the other nonprofit leaders. I had praise and worship music playing, and the song that sat with me that morning was “God I’m Just Grateful” by Chandler Moore. I am grateful to God for many things, but in that moment my gratitude was simple. I was grateful to be alive. I was grateful to have work that made space for me to get away, because the work we do is mentally taxing, and that kind of space is not something I take for granted.

That night, we gathered around a fire. No one gave a speech. People shared about growing up in Chicago, about high school, about why they got into nonprofit work in the first place. When it started to rain, we moved indoors and kept talking about music, art, and the work we all do. It was refreshing to spend time with other leaders simply as people, without a problem to solve or a deliverable waiting.

Then came Saturday and the closing circle. Each of us named an intention to carry forward. We had been surrounded by so much nature that mine came almost without thinking. Be in nature more. Even though I am not an outside girl.

Here is what I know about intentions set at retreats. Most of them do not survive the drive home. I have been guilty of this myself. You leave inspired, you open your inbox, and within a week the retreat feels like something that happened to someone else.

I want to tell you what happened after, because that is the part that matters most.

Since August, I have been to the beach twice. I rode a swan paddle boat in Indianapolis with my family. I spent time at Northerly Island with my team. One Saturday morning, my family and I climbed the Swallow Cliff steps and then took a short walk in the woods.

And in September, I hiked three and a half miles.

That one needs some context. At LISC, we hosted a Day of Rest and Rejuvenation for our partners in the One Chicago for All Alliance at Pulaski Woods. There was something for everyone: forest therapy, fishing, painting, journaling, hammocks, card games, or simply relaxing at the pavilion. I chose the guided hike, 3.5 miles through the forest preserve and into a former top secret World War II research site. It was the first time I had ever hiked that far. After lunch, a teammate and I took a pedal boat out on Maple Lake, with two more pedal boats from our partner organizations on the water alongside us.

Me. The woman who does not like bugs. Three and a half miles in the woods.

When most of us hear the word rest, we picture stillness. A nap, a quiet room, a day with nothing on the calendar. Those are rest, and they are good. But rest is bigger than stillness. Rest is whatever restores you. Sometimes that is a quiet afternoon. Sometimes it is a hike you never imagined taking, a song on the beach, or a conversation around a fire that has nothing to do with deadlines.

Rest also is not only something someone else designs for you. Wingspread was a gift. Someone else planned it, hosted it, and fed us. But the beach trips, the paddle boat, and the Swallow Cliff steps? Nobody planned those for me. The retreat gave me the intention. Keeping it was my work.

Rest you are given is a gift. Rest you keep is a choice.

Every time I followed through on that small intention, I was doing more than getting fresh air. I was keeping a promise to myself. I have written before that consistency is quiet courage, and that the trust we build in ourselves comes from the moments nobody else sees. A Saturday morning on a set of stairs counts. So does a swan paddle boat.

Looking back, I think the intention held for a few reasons. It was small and specific. I did not promise myself to “rest more” or “find balance,” which are goals so big they are easy to postpone forever. I promised nature, which I could act on that same weekend. It was also a little uncomfortable, and that kept it honest. And I almost never did it alone. Nearly every outing included other people, so the time restored me and connected me to the people I enjoy being around at the same time.

I keep coming back to that morning at the lighthouse. In the Gospel of Mark, after the disciples returned from pouring themselves out in ministry, Jesus told them, “Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while.” (Mark 6:31 KJV) The scripture notes that so many people were coming and going that they did not even have time to eat. The invitation to rest came while the work was still unfinished. Rest was not the reward for finishing. It was part of the work.

That is worth remembering for those of us who lead. Hosting the day at Pulaski Woods reminded me that rest is not only personal. When we make space for our teams and partners to step away, we are telling them their restoration matters too. And it is hard to offer others something we have not learned to practice ourselves.

In It Was Never About the List, I wrote about stepping away from work without finishing everything first. This is the other half of that lesson: what you step toward when you step away.

So here is my invitation for you this week. Think back to the last time you felt restored. I do not mean the last vacation you planned. I mean the last time you came back to yourself. Where were you? Who was with you? Now name one small, specific way to bring a little of that back into the next two weeks. Put it on your calendar, and invite someone to join you if that will make it more likely to happen.

What is one small intention for rest you can set over the next 10 days, and who will you invite to keep it with you?

One more thing before you go.

Later this month, I’m a Featured Speaker at the Top 100 Most Powerful Black Women Summit, a five day virtual summit running October 19 to 23. My masterclass is called Own What You’re Building: The Work That Holds It Up. Through me, you can receive complimentary access, valued at $97, with replays included. When you register, enter Jennifer McClain where the form asks which speaker invited you. You can register here. I’ll share more in the coming weeks.