Before my beach trip, I realized I had been operating on autopilot for far too long. So busy moving, producing, and responding to life that I had slowly become disconnected from myself. My patience was wearing thin. My energy was depleted. My days had become predictable rhythms of responsibility and routine. I didn’t realize how much of me was running on empty. But there is something sacred about the beach. The sound of the waves. The feel of the sand beneath your feet. The cool breeze. The warmth of the sun. For me, it all becomes a sanctuary—a place where creation reminds me of the Creator. My grandson and I spent six uninterrupted hours on that shoreline, disconnected from the noise of civilization and fully present in the moment. No agendas. No pressure. No distractions. Just space to be. And somewhere between the crashing waves and the endless horizon, something shifted. I believe we were both releasing what we didn’t need and receiving what we did. Mental clutter was cleare...