Embracing the Gift of "Nothing to Do": A Gentle New Year Resolution to Set Your Own Pace

Raquel Busa
Jan 2
2 min read

Hand-drawn illustration of a hand holding a smartphone showing a text message dated January 1, 2026. The message reads, “Let’s go for a long walk,” with a green reply bubble that says “Ready!” The image conveys invitation, connection, and a gentle start to the new year focused on slowing down and meaningful time together.

I really want to highlight the resolution to set your own pace this year.

My dad used to say, “Only stupid people are bored.” It came from a good place, I promise. When I was a kid, there were very few screens. Our family had two TVs that had to be shared by two parents, seven siblings, and one uncle. Most of the time, I had to find my own entertainment. So my dad drilled into me that, with a little creativity, I could always find something to do. There was no excuse to be bored.

In today’s world—where families, students, pastors, and church leaders are all navigating busy schedules and constant screen time—it has become increasingly difficult to be bored and do nothing. And that’s such a shame. Because it’s in those quiet, unstructured moments that faith, creativity, and reflection can grow.

Today, I want to talk about how letting ourselves “do nothing” is actually an invitation to play, rest, and spiritual creativity—and how play can lead to some of the most delightful discoveries.

Overhead photo of an open sketchbook on a white desk showing two hand-drawn ink portraits of bundled-up people in winter coats and scarves. An open bottle of black ink sits above the sketchbook, and a hand is drawing with a dip pen. The image captures a quiet, creative moment of slowing down, doodling, and reflective art-making.

My seminary classes had ended for the semester. I was off from my 9–5. Client illustration work was finished. I had even posted this Sunday’s issue of Doodles of Devotion, my illustrated devotional for families and faith communities. And suddenly, I had New Year’s Eve all to myself.

But instead of feeling peaceful, I felt anxious.

Was there something I forgot to do? Something I should be preparing for? I had a few hours of nothing to do before New Year’s Rockin’ Eve—and it felt strangely uncomfortable.

So I did something simple. I started doodling from the photos my family was texting me. I went off-screen and used ink and paper. The first doodles felt wonky and imperfect. The second set started to show me a new stylistic direction I might want to explore.

And that’s when I realized: I never would have discovered this if I hadn’t allowed myself space to play.

The next day—January 1st—a friend invited me on a three-mile walk around a snowy lake. She knew I hadn’t walked in a long time, so she gently encouraged me to set the pace. We saw beautiful wildlife, shared deep conversation, and experienced the kind of quiet joy that only comes when you’re not rushing.

I left feeling refreshed, grounded, and hopeful.

Illustrated scene of two bundled-up people standing outdoors in winter coats and scarves, drawn in a textured, hand-painted style. One figure has curly hair and sunglasses, and a speech bubble above them reads, “You can set the pace.” The illustration conveys warmth, encouragement, and a message of slowing down, rest, and gentle faith-centered living.

I can set the pace.

What a perfect revelation—and resolution—for the new year.

So that’s what I mean: boredom isn’t really boredom at all. It’s an invitation to slow down, create together, rest in God’s presence, and rediscover wonder. It’s an invitation to doodle something silly, to take that walk, to let your spirit breathe.

And who knows?

Maybe by embracing these little pockets of play, you’ll stumble into your own sacred discoveries too.

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