June 4, 2016


Written two weeks ago and forgot to post.

So this is it.

This is Michigan.

Sun-toasted sand and lapping waves and just-right sunshine.
We came the right week, they said.

I stand at the waters edge just close enough for the icy water to soothe my burning soul. For the first time in far too many days, the pressure begins to melt away.

"Waves of peace" couldn't be a more cliche metaphor but I seem to understand it for the first time standing here with the waves breaking on my toes and lapping away at the massive stone heart in my chest. The sound of each crest seems to carry a deeper flush of peace and I finally begin to let myself believe that it's ok to relax.

No more office tasks waiting on Monday. No more schedules to make. No more hordes of important details to remember. No more complaints to field.

For two weeks it's just me and a beach and the satisfying pleasure of turning a house into a home.

And at the end of those two weeks I will be a pastor's wife. And with it will come a whole new set of pressures and expectations and late nights and busy weekends. And Jesus will be faithful to give the needed grace to meet those pressures when they come. He always is.

But that's not today.

Today I'm just a tired little girl on a beach talking to Jesus. And the still small voice never sounded sweeter.


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