My homeboy was walking me back to my dorm from our smoothie outing when we ran into a mutual associate. Immediately, we congratulated him on his summer abroad and other exploits. All of Instagram bared witness to his amazing time of professional and cultural growth. He, in turn, asked my friend what he did over the summer. Of course, I knew the response—I touched base with him periodically while he did research abroad and engaged with more researchers on another campus.

Then, they both turned to me as our associate extended the question to me: “What did you do over the summer?” And I answered as I have all year thus far. “I rested.” There was a brief silence as he waited for me to continue. “All summer. I rested all summer.” He responded by saying, “Oh no, that’s a real thing! Believe me, I rested for a good two weeks before…[insert dope activities here]” Yeah, you get it. And I appreciated the affirmation, but I couldn’t help but notice that the thought of taking an extended period of rest time required some sort of justification for most people, especially college students in D.C.

After all, we came here with intentions to illuminate the already-vibrant art scene, take capital hill by storm, and our gain respect in our respective academic communities.

I still have my goals and my ambition intact. However, I’ve learned not to justify my seasons of rest to people. Over the summer, I judged myself more harshly than anyone. I had fought tooth and nail to stay in D.C. over the summer and work an internship, take classes, get a job, do anything. So when I ended up at home, I felt defeated. I had anxiety. There was a hole in my identity where the classifications of “achiever” and “go-getter” were. To be clear, I’m not really lazy. I was applying for jobs and even got close to getting hired multiple times. But strange things would get in the way, to the point where even my mother, who is Ms. Work Ethic, stopped me one day and shared some wisdom with me, “Danari, when you think about it, this is one of the last chances you’ll get at a summer vacation. All year, you’ve seemed like you were caught up in a hurricane. Maybe its time to rest and be grounded.” So I did.

When I finally gave God my thirst for constant productivity, He gave me something better. He gave me an authentic sense of identity.Not a counterfeit sense of identity that could be gutted by the absence of a job or high GPA, but a bulletproof self-confidence rooted in His love for me. He sent people in my life to sow wisdom in my now-clear mind, he sent me on trips that sharpened the picture of my purposed, and gave me peace about pursuing the things that make me bubble over with passion. Now, I’m in an extremely busy season with more opportunities than I can take, but I had to learn to operate from a solid place of contentment. I could go on forever, but I don’t want to lose you.

What I want to say is this: most of my friends are pressed, and not out of a healthy sense of passion, but because of the lie that they are inadequate if they aren’t constantly adding to their resumes. Please don’t misunderstand me—wanting things is goodand working toward those things is even better. God puts desires in your heart for a reason. We all have an important part to play in the world. But we can’t serve a world, freely operating in our gifts, if we are enslaved to its opinion of us. I believe seasons of quiet, rest, and low-visibility are gifts that allow us to build the character and strong self-perception that is required to bear the pressure and brilliance of the amazing things we’ll accomplish. If you master contentment when you’re working with little, your joy will be so much richer when your plate is full. So when you’re in a season of rest, I hope you lean into it and receive the treasure it has for you.