Peace at the beach
In August of 2023, we ventured to the coast of Texas to spend a week at the ocean with my husband’s family. With an almost two year old and a fresh five week old, we caravaned through the Midwest. By Tuesday our oldest had practically gone four days without a proper nap. It was beginning to show. He was zoned out, a little volatile, and in desperate need of some rest. We were not particularly sensitive to the overstimulation that comes with going to the beach with the whole family. Endless sensory play, cousins to laugh with, a total break from routine on top of being in a new place. My husband had spent the time up to that point making sure I had to do as little as possible (bless his heart). Because of this I was beginning to feel a bit out of place. Almost as if I was without my purpose being free of (most all) responsibility.
We ventured to the basilica in Galveston for the feast of the Assumption. We got there an hour early. We had plenty of help around us so I felt complacent in my usual level of attentiveness. As we shopped around, we had a parenting mishap that left my heart racing. We couldn’t find Liam. I quickly sent out the guardian angels. I quickly pleaded with the Lord to protect him. When we found him safe and sound, simply overlooked nearby, I was overwhelmed with compassion and guilt. What could have been a terrible situation turned into a moment of mercy from God and a lesson that made me want to cling tighter to him. I began to fight the urge to distrust those around me, trying to avoid my desire for control. Mass soon after, was a mess of wrestling, trading kids, poopy diapers, nursing and slobbering over an hour and twenty minutes. When I could, I admired the architecture. I gazed into the loving eyes of Jesus on the cross which sent shivers of consolation through me. I offered Him the fear, control, stress, and all the other sins of my heart. I asked Him to speak to me even though I was distracted and He was gracious to me. As I stared into his face with copious amounts of fresh slobber running down my arm, He whispered, “Whatever happens today, have peace.”
At the restaurant for lunch, the toddler was hungry, tired, and his shoes were left in the car. Grandma took him to play in the courtyard anyway. While touring an 1800’s era ship outside in 100 degree weather with an infant strapped to me, the heat seemed irrelevant. Trying to skip nap in favor of early bed time quickly revealed the disservice we had done to ourselves and our son. The reprieve of a short nap for him and a delicious supper found us back on the shores of the Gulf. The sunset around the water was mesmerizing though not as stunning as Kansas. The waves crashed out in the water and then calmed to a gentle lapping when they reached the shore. With the baby in the wrap, I walked in the shallow water. Each step kept him soothed, sound asleep against me. I felt the massaging sand between my toes, the tickle of seaweed brushing my legs, the laughter of those around me and I was struck by the peace the Lord had promised.
It was powerful.
Looking at the intricacies of His creation, chasing my oldest, watching him explore new things, seeing my husband get quality time with his siblings, experiencing the magic of the scenery made me feel less out of place than I had that morning. God had erased my worries. Instead He offered me a physical glimpse into what having peace in my heart should be like. Standing there, breathing it all in was disorienting, fully encompassing my attention. It was almost as if the Earth became a reflection of the relationship I have with Him.
The rest of the evening passed with more challenges. In spite of it all, my disposition was not disturbed. Running after my oldest so he didn’t go too far from everyone on the beach, praying I didn’t wake the little one strapped to me. No big deal. The long process of getting sand washed off us after. Easy peasy. Finally sneaking into the bathroom connected to the room all four of us shared to shower myself. Liam waking up during that and after several minutes cuddling, laying him down. It is what it is. He elected to scream himself to sleep, disturbing the others in the house. Not part of the plan.
Afterwards, I walked out onto the deck in the humid night to collect myself. Suddenly, God’s message made sense. It was clear what He was talking about. I had a choice. In that moment I chose to write this in gratitude, not to overthink the toddler’s motives. I was grateful to my in-laws' advice when they came out to join me and for my husband’s quick ability to diffuse his wailing. In the throes of toddlerhood, the Lord gave me a glimpse of peace as well as an opportunity to choose it that rejuvenated my heart for the work ahead, revolutionizing my evening and offering me what I needed most. Peace at the beach.
