Unhurried

From the Grand Canyon, we traveled on to Lake Havasu City, Arizona for the night.

The next morning, we finally crossed the mountains into San Diego.

Ahh, San Diego.

My favorite place in the whole world.

Granted, I haven’t seen the whole world, but thus far, San Diego firmly retains the #1 position.

Many have asked me what I love about San Diego, and honestly, it’s difficult to fully articulate. There’s just something about this city that makes me come alive in a way that nowhere else does.

It’s like I can finally take a full, deep breath.

The salty air.

The warm sunshine.

The cool breeze.

The temperatures are perfection—the cloudy mornings call for hoodies, while the sunny afternoons call for swimsuits and shorts.

And somehow, you get both beaches and mountains.

What’s not to love?

Yeah, okay, the cost of living is a bit of a drawback.

We arrived around midday and grabbed lunch before my husband took our youngest to the little beach near the ferry landing. She had a blast splashing in the water and playing in the sand. It was hard to convince her to leave, but eventually we headed back to the hotel to prepare for the “real” beach: Central Beach in front of the historic Hotel del Coronado.

The moment our feet hit the warm sand, we all became giddy with excitement. Beach gear was dropped in a heap as some of us ran toward the water while others lingered on the shore.

Our youngest, however, had completely lost her mind.

She was trying to do all the beach things as fast as she possibly could, afraid she wouldn’t have time to do everything.

She raced to the ocean to feel the icy water over her feet.

Then she sprinted back to fill her bucket with sand.

Then back to the shoreline to search for seashells.

Then back again to work on sandcastles.

She was convinced she had to do it all—and she had to do it now.

Boy, do I relate to that.

How difficult it can be to fully plant your feet in this moment—right here, right now.

I once heard it said that Jesus never hurried.

How that challenges me.

To move steadily forward without hurrying draws on such a deep faith and abiding trust that God’s got this. That, in this moment, you are right where you belong. That there is time enough for all that God has ordained.

It requires a level of peace and confidence that, quite frankly, does not come naturally to me.

Perhaps that’s my favorite thing about San Diego.

When I’m there, I feel like I can finally do just that.

I can plant my feet in the sand and simply be.

I am content to listen to the steady rhythm of the waves, to soak up the warm sunshine, and to feel the cool breeze sweep over me.

I can breathe deeply.

I feel no need to hurry.

For what?

To where?

We’re already here.

It’s a kind of restoration I can’t fully explain, but one I deeply need.

And remarkably, after a week or so—even if a good chunk of that time is spent researching properties and daydreaming about living there full-time—I’m ready to return home.

Because, at least for now, my life is elsewhere.

God has graciously gifted us these moments of refreshing by the ocean, but He has firmly planted us on our little landlocked acreage.

And for now, that’s exactly where we’re meant to be.