Two weeks ago, I headed to a beach house in North Carolina with my pregnant sister, her husband, a couple of their closest friends, and my dearest friend in the whole world, Steph. It would be my first real vacation in years, and I was ready to, in addition to having extremely long, productive, life-changing quiet times with God, accomplish several personal goals, including regular morning runs, a tan for my pasty Irish skin, the consumption of healthy food, and at least five edifying novels during my time on the beach.
The only goal I managed to achieve of the 10 I initially set for myself was to stay off the internet.
In all other aspects, I was a total failure.
The health food was the first to crumble—have you ever had North Carolina barbeque? I made my brother-in-law stop at the same place on the way to and from the island so I could enjoy the same pulled-pork sandwich twice in a row. My stomach yearns to eat like that more often.
Running was a sham—I ran for exactly three minutes, on the second to last day of vacation. I think one more minute would have killed me.
I read half of one book.
Concerning my life, I figured out . . . nothing.
It was in this nothingness that Jesus restored sanity to my soul.
One night, I stayed up later than everyone else and sat on the deck, soaking up the ocean waves and Scripture before I went to sleep. Alone with the water, I flipped through the Psalms and landed on Psalm 116:7: "Return to your rest, my soul, for the LORD has been good to you."1