A Journey Towards Rest: Reflections from a Beach Trip

This past September me, Joey, and Laura went on our first family vacation to the Isle of Palms. It was a lovely trip, filled with sweet memories with our 12-month-old and special moments on the beach. My soul craved rest and I found it in all the unexpected ways.

Below you will find glimpses of our vacation from my journal. Bear with me, some of it is not edited.

Friend, I hope you can relate to and relish the lessons I savored on rest.

Day 1. 9/10/2023. 7am

Today marks the first day of our beach trip. Its 7am and I’m about to start packing. Now, I never start packing for a big trip until the day of because if I start the night before I’ll be too restless and I won’t sleep well.

We plan to leave Columbia by 11:30am to arrive at the Isle of Palms with enough time for a Trader Joe’s run before check-in at 4, and with enough time for Laura to nap in the car. Holding all of this loosely as our plans have been far from reality over the last few weeks… we have all been chronically sick and everything has felt so messy. Messy at work, messy in my relationships, messy in my sleep and hormones.

I’ve been carrying a whole lot of baggage over the last couple of days, baggage I wish I didn’t have to hold on to right now on the verge of our first family vacation. Why is it that all the craziness is stirred up right before a trip that is supposed to be relaxing?!

I want nothing but good vibes to carry me into this week. But this is where I’ve been if I’m honest. I feel like a mess.

Today, I choose to walk in the path of grace. I rest in the messiness. I rest knowing I am loved.

I don’t have to have all the ends tied up nice and pretty before my trip. If anything, all the chaos and messiness makes the rest so much sweeter and needed for my soul.

Oh, my soul, release the baggage. You don’t need to carry this any longer.

Rest is coming.

Day 2. 9/11/2023. 10am

I’m sitting on the back porch of our little beach villa which overlooks a lagoon. Cicadas chirping all around, there’s a swampy smell everywhere. It’s mid-morning and I’m sitting here drinking warm coffee, sweating, and doing everything in my power to rest. To let go.

We arrived in the Isle of Palms yesterday afternoon. It’s so beautiful here, so quiet and peaceful. Except for our Trader Joe’s run. Gosh it’s like everyone in Mount Pleasant flocked to Trader Joe exactly when we decided to go.

I hear Joey playing with Laura inside, trying to get her to stop crying and whining for me. She’s in a big “Mama” stage right now and separation anxiety is at its peak. Any time I leave her she cries.

I love it and it’s crazy exhausting and overwhelming all at the same time.

Something is in the water below me. I hear soft waves gently brushing the banks of the lagoon. The signs around say alligators live here. We are really in the wild. I love it here.

This morning Laura woke before 6:00 AM, per her usual schedule. We had breakfast out on the patio after I nursed her. I’m pretty sure we were the only ones awake as all was so quiet around us. Laura is mesmerized with all the newness here. She points to the trees, climbs up on the glass coffee table in the living room so proudly, and says hi to everything, everywhere. It’s the cutest thing.

After breakfast, I got a dressed, changed a very poopy diaper, and Laura and I went out in her stroller to explore our surroundings. We walked around the neighborhood looking and pointing at all the beautiful houses that cost an incredible amount of money.

I could hear the beach waves as we walked along the streets. Now I was determined to find the beach with my little girl. And we did! What a treat it was to introduce her to the beach for the first time. It’s beautiful here. No obnoxious crowds or harsh weather. Just natural beauty. That morning, the waves were gentle and the sky soft and blue.

We walked back to our villa and Joey was up making coffee. He was so eager to see Laura. I am so grateful for him. As I write this out on the patio, on the other side of the glass door, they are still making all kinds of joyful sounds.

Resting is very hard for me. Everything in me is drawn to thinking, planning, ruminating, doing. My thoughts pull me into this past week and into the weeks ahead. It’s so much easier for our minds to drift into places of control and shame, to preoccupy themselves with the future and ruminate on the past. Staying present requires so much more intentionality, focus, and self-discipline. Working on this today…

I want to let go of all my expectations for this vacation.  I know from experience that it’s the expectations that lead to frustration because they never go as planned. So, with this in mind, my desire for this vacation is to:

• Refocus my wandering mind and soul back to the present, the here and now and the precise moment I’m in.
• Notice and cherish the beauty that surrounds me, giving thanks and praise to the one who fashioned it all.
• Put to rest my anxious striving and planning for the future, and dwell in the Father’s love.
• To reflect the rest I was created to experience.  To rest like my Father, with my Father.

4:40pm

I sit here again outside on our little patio. This is probably where I will do much of my writing. I’m watching the ripples in the water below, hearing the sweet birds chirp.

 If I listen closely enough I can hear the waves at high tide. Today was filled with so many sweet memories. We took Laura to the beach and introduced her to the sand and the waves. She was so excited.

At one point, while Joey and Laura were on the shore, I swam several feet out into the sea and waved to Laura. She pointed to me and smiled so big! She seemed so proud I was her mom.

We ride back together with Laura wrapped in a beach towel in my arms. We all enjoy a long nap together on our fancy king size bed. What a sweet, sweet day.

My parents are here now. They are spending the next couple of nights with us and watching Laura so that Joey and I can have some time to ourselves. Mom is cooking steaks and cheesy potatoes tonight and throwing together a big salad. I’m so thankful for them.

8:00pm

After dinner we all went for a walk down to the beach. We let Lara explore the waves again and put her feet in the water. Dad walked her up and down the beach on his shoulders. Laura so joyful and carefree. What a lovely evening. My heart is full.

Day 3. 9/12/23. 10:30am

Today I sit by the sea, my feet in the sand, the tide running over my feet, tiny bugs crawl all over my body. The ocean rolling in and out sharing her “good mornings.” The sun is already hot and getting hotter. I tilt my umbrella down to block its steady rays. Joey is watching Laura this morning and my parents are playing tennis. I am so thankful to have this time to myself on the water.

A new wave comes crashing in, knocking my umbrella down once again and stealing my Chacos from the shore.  I chase them and bring them back to my chair.  This time, I don’t bother propping up my umbrella again, I just move my chair to fit the new shadow.

The waves, they are steady and consistent. Have they ever stopped speaking their tune? In and out, back and forth. There is rhythm here, but this rhythm is not confined to a precise beat. They don’t conform to a metronome; they have a pattern of their own.

I asked the Lord to show me more of himself today. Maybe this is it.

Just like these steady waves, He is constant, unchanging, always faithful. But not confined to our rhythms of control or “shoulds.”

His presence is in the calm wave as it moves into the shore, gently cleansing my feet. These are the waves that my daughter loved splashing in yesterday. They are easy and sweet.

When I look several feet farther out, I see bigger, powerful waves crashing about. Nothing can stop them or stand in their way. He is also in the big and powerful. He is to be feared.

I hear a moment of silence, a pause, between each wave coming onto the shore. This pause happens as one wave slides back into the sea waiting for another to take its place.

 In each pause, when the wave fades back into the ocean, there is no water on the shore, only small sea bubbles drying up in the sun. Although relatively short, this pause feels powerful. The pause is factored into the rhythm of the waves. In each crash of the wave, there is a pause that follows.  

How often do I live in the pauses, between the push and the pull, unsure of when I will feel the Father’s presence again?

As I write this, a new wave comes in once again, as it always does, this time flowing farther up onto the shore than ever before. High tide is coming.

Maybe, just maybe, when we don’t feel his presence, we must wait until there’s a higher tide. Seasons of feeling His closeness come and go, just like the rhythms of this tide.

But maybe, just maybe, there are other times when we need to pick ourselves off the dry, parched sand we’re sitting in and walk closer towards the water of life. Maybe this is what it takes to feel nearer?

Thank you, Lord. May I move closer to you when it is in my power and wait for you in those other seasons when there’s nothing more I can do.

Day 4. 9/13/23. 11:00am

I’m on our back patio again. It’s wet from the rain yesterday. I hear cicadas everywhere, tennis balls being hit back and forth from the courts across the street. Birds chirping all around me.

Laura is napping with Joey upstairs. Yesterday she came down with a fever and we took her to Urgent Care in Mount Pleasant. Looks like an ear infection so we started a trial of antibiotics. Ugh, we seriously can’t get a break from all this sickness.

This morning Laura woke at 3:30am and wouldn’t go back to sleep. Joey took her out of the bedroom and stayed up with her so I could get more rest. My throat hurts now too.

In this moment I seek rest. The rest that only comes when you accept what it, without trying to change or fix. The rest that comes with allowing, not resisting.

Yesterday, after we came back from Urgent Care, Laura and I took a long nap together in our bed. Mom came to help so I could go to the beach with dad. Laying in the bed briefly with all three of us was so special. I’m so grateful for my mother’s presence and her tender care for my little girl when she’s sick.

Dad and I went to the beach together and ventured into the high tide. The place where the big, powerful waves are quick to knock you down. As we moved farther out into the sea the waves rolled over us so hard we kept falling over before we could even begin to swim. We fought helplessly and laughed so hard.

I remember doing this with him when I was a kid. Jumping the waves and riding the big ones into the shore. It was thrilling to do it all over again, just me and my dad.

At one point in our wave jumping adventure, dad told me I had so much to look forward to as a mom to Laura. How I get to experience all the fun things like this with her. Vacations like these are so much fun as a parent because you get to experience the world through their eyes. How true this is!

After getting battered by the sea, we floated to the shore and sat under the blue sky. It was so blue and clear my eyes were overwhelmed. We sat in silence and enjoyed the sound of the waves together while the sun dried our bodies. Life was so good here. This is a memory with my dad I will always cherish.

That evening, Joey and I went out to eat at a local Southern restaurant. I ordered the best shrimp and grits dish I’ve ever had in my life. It was dense and creamy and all the things I was once so afraid of in my disordered eating years. Eating those shrimp and grits and truly enjoying it without the slightest regret or guilt afterwards felt so, so good.

I was reminded of the bondage I was once in when it came to food, and the freedom I experience now. Oh, how I wish I could go back and tell myself then what I know now: “A day will come when you will be free.”

This experience was so beautiful for me.

Day 5. 9/14/23. 5:46pm

I’m outside once again on our patio deck. A glass of wine in my hand after a hot shower. I am feeling weary and exhausted. Joey is with Laura on a Harris Teeter run to get cocktail sauce for our shrimp fest tonight. I honestly just want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep.

Yesterday, although exhausting, was a blast. After a good afternoon nap we all went to the aquarium in Charleston. Laura loved pointing to all the fish and even tried to run into the water tank not knowing the concept of the glass. Watching her see all the new animals and her joy in showing them to us was such a treat. Thank goodness for infant Tylenol and Motrin…

Last night I continued to feel like crap. Getting sick on vacation is really the last thing I wanted. I have been looking forward to this trip for many months with an idea of how I wanted it to go. It’s been so special, so beautiful, and so tiring and exhausting at the same time. I’ve learned to accept this. Here, again, lies true rest.

This morning Laura and I went for a walk to give Joey some time to work and rest. Laura also didn’t seem to be feeling well so we came back to the house and rested. While Laura was napping, I tried to go to the beach to experience some peace. The wind was brutal and my poor umbrella couldn’t take it. A kind, older couple tried to help me as I kept trying to prop my umbrella up, only to have the wind knock it down again. I was such a sad sight!

Finally, the couple let me borrow their fancy, flowy, sturdier contraption that blocks the sun while they drank beers by the shore. I laid under the flowy thing for a while and tried to read and relax. But the wind and my budding fever made it difficult. My throat hurt so bad.

Laura and Joey joined me briefly, but we had to leave because Laura just wasn’t feeling well, and the wind was too strong.

Again, I found freedom and rest not in the ideal picture of relaxation, but in the accepting and allowing of what is.

Here, I will savor these last few hours in our quiet villa. We will leave tomorrow morning. I’ll treasure the memories we’ve made while letting go of all the expectations. This indeed is rest.