You would never know it was a public beach. We were the only souls in sight. I still can’t remember exactly how we heard about it when we first moved from Oklahoma to Los Angeles, but I’ll never forget the little wooden-planked path, almost hidden, that wound between gorgeous mansions in Malibu, California, leading all the way down to the most beautiful shoreline you can imagine.
That beach was a happy place for my family during the two years we lived in California. We’d bring friends and family who came to visit to our hidden beach. We’d promise as we parked and led our guests down the secret boardwalk that we did have permission to be there. Anyone who could find it could enjoy it. We were some of the lucky few who knew about this hidden gem.
It wasn’t the type of beach where you could park close and wheel a wagon filled with chairs or umbrellas all the way down to the water, even though we did enjoy those sorts of beaches while we lived in California. The path that led to this practically private stretch of sand was just big enough to walk single file, carrying at most a picnic basket on the long trek from the car to the shore. But let me tell you, that walk was worth it.
I can still hear the waves and can picture the way the sunset threw rosy hues across the water and sand.
I think I’ll always remember our first trip to that beach on a December evening weeks after we arrived in California — when the water was just warm enough for little children from Oklahoma to run into and splash. The sun set faster than we anticipated, and it seemed as if we were a world away from everything and everyone we had left behind.
When we arrived in December 2017, we didn’t know that just two years later the Lord would move us to Franklin, Tennessee. We didn’t know our time on the West Coast would be so short. We didn’t know that just a few weeks after we arrived in Tennessee, the entire world would shut down with illness. There was so much we didn’t know when we set out from Oklahoma, following God’s prompting and trusting Him to guide us.
But He saw it all. He saw the joy that was waiting for us, and He saw the painful parts of the path where He’d hold us close.
The truth is, that season of our life in California was filled with hard things we didn’t see coming. We needed God there in ways we hadn’t in Oklahoma. In those two years, we went through so much. My family experienced a health emergency. We walked someone very close to us through a mental health crisis. We navigated financial uncertainty. Our marriage struggled. My heart wasn’t in a peaceful place. We dealt with the effects of our own mental and emotional overwhelm. But at the very same time, I was confident that we were exactly where we needed to be, and I was just as sure that I needed the Lord to help me daily.
The contrast of how hard that season was with how many incredible things happened while we were there is really remarkable. We enjoyed so many new experiences. We were able to work with the Christian entertainment industry. We were a part of some powerful church conferences. Our business thrived, and we enjoyed new creative ventures. We made lifelong friends in that season. Nearly every day, we woke up to the sun shining and weather that felt like we were on vacation. We had that beautiful beach and incredible sunsets and so much to explore and enjoy. But there was also so much deep pain. I think sometimes we forget that both can be true at once.
- Life can be both beautiful and heavy. Full of sorrow and joy.
Full of hope and discouragement just breaths apart, and sometimes held within the same heart, mind, and body simultaneously. One does not mean the absence of the other. I’m sure you have experienced this.
Those highs and lows defined our two years in Los Angeles. My mind wondered constantly about the future and thought back over all we had left behind. It was as if my thoughts were in a tug-of-war between what I knew to be true of the Lord meeting us in the current moment and the fear of the future and the pain over what we had left in the past. Do you know what that’s like?
The mind of a momma rarely seems to occupy the present moment. Her thoughts are seldom fully in the same room that holds her feet. We do our best to think two steps ahead — planning, problem-solving, peering into tomorrow, hoping that when it comes it will be easier than today. And often, we spend just as much time replaying the past, reviewing all we have done and rehearsing how things could be different now if we had just thought of _____________ back then.
Do your thoughts ever race down trails of all the possible outcomes, hoping to come up with a solution that shifts your circumstances? Do your thoughts ever get sucked back in time until you wonder: If only...?
How are we ever supposed to rest our minds when they are full not only of what must be done today but also of fear or worry or grief or regret? How are we supposed to experience mental rest when our thoughts race relentlessly?
Is your mind tired, too, friend? Honestly, I’d be shocked if you said, “Actually, no. I’m good. All clear here.” Moms are often physically busy, but a mother’s mind is what never seems to stop. It keeps track of it all. All the information, all the feelings, all the memories, all the possibilities —good, bad, and uncertain.
Telling a mom that she can rest her mind feels almost as impossible as telling a mom that she can rest her body. Yet we need to rest both. The health of our minds is just as important as the health of our bodies. I don’t need to tell you that either, do I? Once again, just like the issue with resting your body isn’t whether it’s good for you, but rather how to find time to do it; the issue with resting your mind is not if it’s important but how to find moments to give your brain a break. How do we stop overthinking? How do we stop worrying? How do we grab hold of those racing thoughts?
Isaiah 26:3 gives us a hint:
You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in You, all whose thoughts are fixed on You! — NLT
Life is loud and shouts for our attention. Yet
Scripture is clear: We fix our thoughts on Jesus, and He keeps us in peace.
It sounds simple, but what does it actually mean? I can hear the Lord speaking to us over all the chaos, kindly helping our hearts to focus: Eyes on Me, baby girl. Eyes on Me.
Excerpted with permission from Healing Rest by Becky Thompson, copyright Rebecca F. Thompson.
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Your Turn
Where are your eyes fixed? What are you focusing on? What might change if even in seasons that are a mixture of really hard and beautiful and our minds need rest, we turned our faces toward Jesus and let Him keep us at peace? ~ Devotionals Daily