My son’s recent trip to Yosemite inspired this AI-created image.
Yosemite has always held a special place in my heart as my all-time favorite vacation spot. Growing up in a family that camped, those moments around the fire were cherished. Dad, the undisputed fire attendant, would jealously manage the flames while the pungent smell of smoke danced in the air, accompanied by the sizzling sound of hot dogs. And who could forget the sticky marshmallows that glued our s’mores together?
It was a meaningful and memorable bonding experience.
Of course, nature had its quirks, too. Bear sightings were thrilling, especially when they raided unlocked cars for a snack. Deer were a common delight, gracing us with their presence almost daily. And let’s not forget the exhilarating rides down the meandering Merced River and the challenging hikes to the falls. Each adventure revealed the majesty of this cathedral of calm.
But let’s be honest: it wasn’t always calm.
I vividly remember our honeymoon in 1970, which was not the blissful escape I’d envisioned. Instead, conflict arose quickly. Newlyweds face their share of challenges, but ours seemed to involve an extra set of difficulties. I’ve learned over the years that sometimes you have to take a good, hard look in the mirror—and, yes, I admit I was often the one contributing to the issues.
Fast-forward to our twenty-eighth anniversary, and we were experiencing more than the typical turmoil. The Yosemite anniversary trip was on the horizon, and we simply could not go together, so I made the bold decision to go solo. I had never experienced the great outdoors by myself. Setting up camp was surreal, and as I navigated the wooden pathways across the meadow on my bike, it hit me:
I didn’t know what to do next.
Then it dawned on me—I could do whatever I wanted! No more overruled plans. Though liberating, lingering misgivings remained. My slow healing began there. But it took decades to embrace the emotional and spiritual health needed for my new decade-old, delightful relationship.
One morning, while camping, I awoke to a strange sight: the ground was covered with a peculiar, heavy dew. It even saturates items underneath. What was going on? Had it rained? No. After a chat with a ranger and a call to my weatherman dad, I was still at a loss. And then it crystallized. I felt an impression from God that those tears of mine He had collected in His bottle (Psalm 56:8) had been poured out on the ground, assuring me that He saw my anguish and pain.
The truth is, there is no geographical place that guarantees peace. You could visit the calmest climes or the most beautiful vistas, but without inner peace, you’ll still feel empty. It’s only the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6) who can truly satisfy your deepest longings.
So, wherever you find yourself—whether in peaceful, placid, or tumultuous times—you can seek and find that inner peace that God offers through Jesus.
The question: What steps can you take today to find inner peace? Remember, it’s a jagged journey, but well worth embarking on.
As we contemplate this, let’s pray: “Dear God, thank You for being our source of peace in every storm. Help us to seek You in our times of turmoil, and may we feel Your presence guiding us toward healing and joy. Amen.”
And remember, the only true place of peace is in Him!
Thank you!