Going back to move forward

Once a year, I pack up my car with snacks, clothes, winter gear, pampering supplies, books, and my journal and head out to one of my favorite places on the face of the earth (or at least the earth that I’ve discovered so far in my 44 years)….Priest Lake, Idaho. I am certain that I could find peace and refreshment in any other location that feels like a piece of heaven, but Priest Lake seems almost always to be my go-to. The nature. The beauty. The smells. The memories.

Let me start by saying that originally, I thought Priest Lake held so many positive memories from my childhood—memories of my dad laughing and me not feeling so scared of him. Memories of spending time with cousins and playing all day until we couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer. Memories of my grandpa taking us on boat rides to Upper Priest where we got to experience the serene, quiet, glassy part of the lake that not everyone gets to experience. We spent so much time at my grandparent’s cabin and it was a nice place to get away from some of the hard that happened at home day to day.

I don’t remember when it happened, but at some point, I realized that being at Priest Lake holds far more hurt, feelings of fear, and maybe even betrayal than actual positive memories. Yet, it is still one of my happy places because I now know that it was the family cabin and the people that are attached to the hard parts of Priest Lake, not the lake itself. The lake itself and the beauty that surrounds it were the first places that I believe I had felt the presence of God.

The smells of nature and the sounds of creation surround me when I am standing on the beach of Luby Bay, bringing me closer to God in a way that I cannot explain fully. I experience moments of hearing from our ancestors and knowing that the ground I walk on is sacred. My body can relax into mindfulness and just be.

I have caught glimpses of the cabin, which is no longer in the family, and I feel emotions that I wish I would have been able to feel unapologetically as a child. So it heals me. It heals that child who never understood the hurts that came from those who are supposed to keep you safe and protect you. It heals the parts of me that wanted to protect me from the hard memories and hold on to only the good. It heals me from wondering why God didn’t intervene when I have always felt his presence in this place.

 Now I get to embrace the beauty and wonder that surrounds me and find glimpses of refresh, renewal, and healing.

 Learn more about me and why I love the work I do HERE or check out this episode of my podcast