Fifty miles west is a journey to healing.
It is very difficult to head 50 miles west when just walking out of the house or into the next room brings aches to my heart. Fifty miles west is our happy place. It is the place where the stress just melts away. Fifty miles west, geographically, is Lake Michigan for us. But what does fifty miles west look like internally? Emotionally? Mentally? Physically? Everyone’s answer is different but the same conclusion would apply. Getting to the place of “Ahh...it feels good to be here”...even if it is just for a time, is healing. We have made countless visits to our fifty miles west marker. There and back again. Repeat.
When we have been to the big lake...we somehow can see things differently. More clearly at times. Though, sometimes we truly have been left with even more questions. But all in all...we feel like a weight has been lifted.
Refreshed down in our soul.
The sun on our skin.
Our toes in the sand.
The waves lapping the shore.
Oh the fresh smell breezing off the lake. It is so good. Beyond good.
Healing.
Every spring we could hardly wait for the first break in the weather to head over to Lake Michigan. I remember one year, in March, we had nine record-breaking days with temps in the 80’s. We packed things up and headed fifty miles west. Yes, the water was freezing...but no matter...the day was beautiful.
Countless times we headed to any one of the picturesque towns lining the sandy shores of Lake Michigan to celebrate life...or to just simply be.
Just because.
These were the times that our already filled hearts overflowed. We carried back that which we brought and an abundance more than when we started our journey.
And then there were the times when we HAD to go. Times when the stresses of life were almost too much.
A job loss.
A love loss.
Friendship lost.
Too many bills.
Not enough money.
Stress. Stress. Stress.
Betrayal, pain, heartache.
One thing after the other. It was during these times...we needed the solitude and peacefulness of the lake more than any other time.
As we would approach the lake...the anticipation grew. The closer we got, the larger we filled our lungs. We could hardly wait to come over the rise in the road and behold the glistening shimmer before us. We would quickly grab our chairs and beach paraphernalia and descend the steps on the dune to plant our chairs in a favorite spot. And no matter how cold the water was, I always had to go put my feet in the waves first...just to ground myself and feel the buckets and bushels of love He has for me. And then we would sit.
And breathe.
And talk.
And read.
And relax.
We would also often throw a football or frisbee with the kids. That was something that Ed did more than me...I was too lazy in the sunshine, soaking up the rays..and peace. At some point, we would take a walk down the beach as far as we could...hand in hand...talking about everything and nothing. And somehow by the time we returned to our spot...everything felt better. Oh, the problems still existed...but we were fifty miles west of them...for now.
Fast forward to 2021...my love made his way from my arms right into the arms of His Jesus. I held tight. I longed for a Lazurus miracle that would not come. I could not move my hand from his arm for fear of the final warmth leaving our touch. I knew when I would finally lift my hand...our physical connection would forever be severed. My warmth was his warmth...but he found more warmth in the Son. I do not know at this point how I will ever be able to feel fifty miles west of our new here. To see. To feel. To smell. To rest.
Not long ago...I made the trip with a couple of my kids and a few friends. The breeze, the warmth...the smell...it was there. But it was without him. Him. The man that held my hand up and down the beach for years. The man that sat next to me in the sand and read one of his many books. The man whose smile and eyes always melted me. Being there without him was not the same. I had but a moment of peace...looking out over the horizon and breathing deep...knowing that somewhere in the vast heavens...my hubby was free. Pain free. Running free. Worshiping free. His chains were gone. He is feeling all the peace there ever can be...never to have to feel the stresses again. Not ever. He is with Jesus. The One who loves him even more than I do. I think my anxiety eased somewhat for a bit with these thoughts...and I tried...I really tried to hold on and carry it back with me but the further east we drove...the more my heart ached once again. I may have geographically gone fifty miles west...but my heart could not even once move for more than a milli-moment. Not fifty miles. Not one mile. Not an eighth. The pain was just beyond raw.
My head tells me that I will find that spot on the beach again...the one that is exactly fifty miles west. Where free gets as good as it gets this side of heaven. In knowing that, I also know that it will be a long road west to get my heart to follow. Fifty miles is not really that far...but it will feel like an eternity.
Fifty miles west is a journey to healing.
“They raise their voices, they shout for joy; They cry out from the west concerning the majesty of the Lord.” - Isaiah 24:14
TRAILBLAZING:
If you know, where is your 50 Miles West? It might be across country. It might be in your backyard. It might just be in your “war room”... or prayer closet. Wherever it is, make a plan to get there and rest in the peace and tranquility of the One who loves you more. If you don’t know… find one that just melts the stresses away from you.
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