My morning devotional time is precious to me—and it becomes even more so the more I pour into it. Lately, I’ve been walking through the Healing Around the Word HealingStrong Bible Plan again alongside some of our Group Leaders and our HealingStrong family. There is something deeply special about being in the Word together, growing and learning side by side.

This week, we’re in the Book of Jeremiah. Today’s readings came from chapters 9–15, and three moments in particular stood out to me so clearly that I felt compelled to share them.

First:
“You know me, Lord! You see me. You examine my heart’s attitude toward you.” (Jeremiah 11:3)

What a powerful reminder—we are fully known. Not just seen on the surface, but known in the deepest places of our hearts. That truth alone invites both humility and comfort.

Then in chapter 13, we read about Jeremiah being instructed to purchase a linen sash, wear it, and later hide it in a crevice of a rock. When he returns to retrieve it, the sash is ruined—rotted and no longer useful.

The picture is powerful. Something once valuable became worthless when it was removed from where it was meant to remain.

And finally:
“Your words were found, and I ate them. Your words became for me a joy and the delight of my heart; for I have been called by your name.” (Jeremiah 15:16)

That phrase—I have been called by your name—lingers.

How easy it is to drift into complacency, to wander through life without intention. But we are not here by accident. We are called.

God has given each of us meaning and purpose. And just like that sash was designed to cling closely to the body, we are designed to cling tightly to Him. It is in that closeness—remaining near, abiding in His Word— our relationship deepens, we begin to understand our value more clearly, our identity is affirmed, and our purpose becomes clear.

When we stay connected to Him, His Word becomes our joy. Our hearts begin to align with His. And we don’t just exist—we live fully in the calling He has placed on our lives.

So today, I’m asking myself:
Am I clinging closely to Him… or have I drifted?

As 2025 came to an end, Glenn and I both felt a deep need to get away—to the beach. It wasn’t about doing more or planning anything big. It was simply time for recovery, rest, and restoration. Time to just be.

There is such importance in taking time for ourselves and returning to the places and rhythms that restore us. For me, that place is the beach. Watching the sunrise or sunset. Fishing. Kayaking. Planting my feet in the sand. Hunting for seashells. Sitting quietly and watching the water move in and out. And this visit, it included developing a new creative painting skill. These moments may seem small, but they are deeply nourishing.

At the beach, my soul slows down. Distractions fade. Gratitude rises as I take in God’s creation—the vastness of the water, the steady rhythm of the waves, the warmth of the sun. I find myself listening more closely, not just with my ears, but with my heart. This is where I’m reminded that God often speaks in the stillness.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

There is something grounding about these simple days. The sun feels like fuel to the body. The quiet feeds the soul. Laughter comes easily. Friendships deepen. Smiles and love seem to meet you right where you are.

Jesus understood the need for this kind of rest. He invited His disciples to step away from the noise and demands of life:

“Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, ‘Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.’”
—Mark 6:31

In choosing just simple days, we intentionally leave behind the busyness of the world and make space to listen. To notice. To hear God’s Word again—not rushed or crowded out, but gently received.

“And your ears will hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’” (Isaiah 30:21)

May we give ourselves permission to slow down, to rest, and to listen. Sometimes the most profound moments with God are found in the simplest days.