In June of 2023, my only child Brayden graduated high school. Like any parent, we celebrated this milestone event. We had family come in from out of town, attended the pomp and circumstance ceremony, and shared a large feast.

For years I did lots of work on myself to name the past. I’ve also spent time considering the future. This has left little time for me to intentionally lean into the present. I’m beginning to feel my lack of presence in my physical body, forcing me to face the present more urgently.

“Rest is Warfare.” I heard this phrase recently. It intrigues me. This equation has tension, pulling in two separate directions. Why does rest require such effort?

I shared yesterday about the majesty and glory of what we witnessed at the top of our climb at Yosemite. What I wouldn’t give to stay on the mountaintop! We were there in awe of the majestic mountains and views that were before us. We weren’t on the mountaintop alone. We were there with strangers who had been along the journey, too, all with the same objective in mind: to gawk at the majesty of the mountains.

While we were out hiking, along one of the trails, I found a sturdy walking stick. This walking stick provided me support and balance as I made my way along the dusty and rocky terrain. As we continued on the path, the journey upward became much steeper as we came close to the dome’s peak. I leaned more and more on that walking stick as a support to move me upward and forward. As I was making my way up, the words “your rod and your staff, they comfort me” came to my mind.

I tend to be an impatient person. Waiting in God’s presence is hard for me. I get eager to do, to take action, and to make something happen. But sometimes, I have experienced seasons with such high grief, turmoil, or uncertainty I couldn’t help but just to wait, no matter how much I tried to keep going.