The Waves Washed it Away

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 cleared.
Perspective was restored.
Peace was downloaded into places I didn’t even know were weary.

The truth is, I didn’t realize how exhausted I had become until every night my body surrendered to a deep, intoxicating sleep.

Not just sleep—
rest.

The kind of rest that restores.
The kind of rest that resets.
The kind of rest God designed for the soul.

For the first time in a long while, my mind became a blank canvas of serenity.

Now I’m back.

Recharged.
Rejuvenated.
Refreshed.

Life has taught me the value of my limitations, and wisdom has taught me to honor them.

I no longer feel compelled to be first.
I no longer rush to volunteer for everything.
I no longer wear overcommitment as a badge of honor.

And the baggage I carried to the beach?

I left it there.

Some bags were never mine to carry in the first place.

Peace is my portion.
Rest is my inheritance.
And protecting both has become a permanent, nonnegotiable act of stewardship.

I’ve returned lighter, clearer, and more aligned with what truly matters.

And for that, I am eternally grateful.

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