The beach has been calling me. I need the walks by the water, the reflection and the renewal. But I’m not up to the six hour drive it takes to get there. Consequently, I’ve been thinking a lot about ways to create that beach tranquility closer to home. My first thought was a short trip to Lake Oconee. It’s only two hour away. Quiet mornings by the lake with a cup of coffee and my journal seemed like the perfect alternative. But I got stuck trying to decide whether or not I should take the trip alone or with my family. All of us needed some time away. Grief is hard work.

This past Saturday, when I opened the door to let my dogs out, I felt the call of nature. Come sit with me, she said.

My deck and patio furniture were covered in pollen. But the urge to be outside was so strong that I spent the next forty-five minutes or so wiping everything down. And once it was clean, I grabbed a cup of coffee and my journal. The birds sang in the distance and the breeze rustled through the leaves as I wrote about tranquility.

For the last eight months, it has taken everything in me to navigate the waves of sadness and loss. And like the deck, much of my house is in need of maintenance. Neither my husband nor I have had the energy to do much more than get through the day. But while sitting on the deck, it occurred to me that the place that needed the most upkeep and nurturing was our hearts.

In the busyness of life, feeding our hearts often takes a backseat to our multi-layered to-do list. We put it off until the weekend or our vacations. But the heart is a fragile thing. It needs our attention. It can’t survive on leftovers or haphazard attempts. It needs us to be intentional. We have to ask ourselves – What will truly satisfy the longings of my heart?

For me, it’s time spent with The Lord. Studying and absorbing Scripture was the only thing that got me through the first few months when I didn’t even know how I was still breathing. The words sank deep and feed a part of my soul that I thought died with my son. Even as I write this I am overwhelmed by my loss. I’m not sure that I was driven by intention in the beginning. It was the only thing I knew to do in order to survive. But now that things aren’t as fresh, being intentional is more important.

It’s easy to get caught up in the day-to-day of life and not know why you feel empty and alone. We have to deliberately seek out the things that soothe, restore and inspire. We have to maintain our hearts.

Cleaning off the deck didn’t seem like something that would feed my heart. But being able to listen to the birds and look up in the trees created the very retreat I thought only a trip to the beach could provide.

I felt some trepidation about sharing this particular blog. Writing about loss is new for me. Not to mention it can be a downer. But the truth is, we all have places in our hearts that hurt and need our attention. Being intentional about self care is probably the best thing we can do for ourselves and our writing.

Take some time today to ask what your heart needs. You may find the answer in your own backyard.