Most years, the ranch hosts two huge clinic events in April and May, just a couple weeks apart. They are a BLAST and yet at the end of them the staff is TIRED. In the few weeks between these clinics, children still come for sessions, the horses still need care, and our normal, pressing responsibilities and the needs of the families who come demand our attention and action.
Personally, I discovered it can take a toll.
Not only do I work on this facility in all the hustle and bustle of activities… I live there. Many times tourists or strangers stop by on the weekends or when the ranch is closed. And, the days we’re closed to the public, horses, again, still need feeding and sometimes vetting. Facilities upkeep and chores still need to be done. The majority of the staff do not live on-site, so this responsibility falls on a few individuals, such as myself, as part of our agreement to live on the property.
And I LOVE it all.
However, often during the session season I also find my heart, body, and soul simply need a break. No matter how much I love it, I have to take time to pull back, rest and recharge. I’ll often do that in the wilderness… or sometimes, at the ocean.
One particular weekend between clinics, my friend and I decided that we just needed to get away — off-site and out of town to disappear for a few days.
So we went to the coast.
Upon arriving at our little beach house motel, I flopped myself on the bed in exhaustion. The roar of the sea out our window and salty air invited stillness and deep rest. My friend immediately headed to the beach while I opted for a nap. The entire trip, I don’t know that I made it outside down to the sandy shore once… I simply rested and slept and journaled, allowing the peaceful atmosphere and sound of the ocean to wash over my weariness.
Sleeping in the next morning — a WONDERFUL luxury — I woke to a clear sky over the bright blue of the water below us. Our room included a private bedroom, a fold-out couch, and a small kitchen and living room area. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the westward wall and painted us an incredible, panoramic view of the Pacific. Wrapped cozily in a blanket, I sat and watched the waves, silently thanking God for the break and the wonder of His creation.
I’m not sure which of us saw it first, but suddenly an odd, small mist of water spurted from the sea. We squinted and looked harder. Another appeared a few minutes later, this time a giant, black body emerged beneath it. Giddy excitement rushed between us as we realized the wonder before us:
WHALES!
Now, I’ve tried to see whales before, many times, on several different trips. I’ve sat high on rocky cliffs over deep parts of the ocean and shivered with friends in the wind and ocean spray, followed a map to a specific whale-watching location, and even have stopped at a whale observatory where you are supposed to be able to observe whales. No whales. Ever.
Until today… in my pajamas, wrapped in a blanket, with my friend, from the comfort of our living room. TODAY they appeared. And they played right in front of us.
The entire rest of the morning, we barely moved from our spot, watching the whales follow each other back and forth — within the frame of our window. They stayed and played for hours and hours, sinking deep into the sea and rising every few minutes to spout and breathe. Then it struck me.
God designed whales to live as deep sea creatures, made for the water and dark depths of the ocean… and yet they need to BREATHE.
Might that be a lesson for me?
God designed me — all of us — to navigate and live in this world. We have deep things we are called to walk through each and every day. The sea can be fierce… and so can this life. Like the whales, God’s already given us everything we need to weather the storms and enjoy the wonder of what He has created.
But we need to breathe.
We have GOT to retreat and come up for air. We can’t stay in the depths for which we were created without daily, routinely, resurfacing for a breath of fresh life from our King. If we think we can do it on our own, we’re at risk of drowning in our purpose and calling. We are also called upward — to constantly rise in prayer and thanksgiving and receive the strength to continue on.
Watching the whales rise and fall, I too rose for a breath of air through prayer. Talking with the King, new waves of peace and assurance, healing and strength flowed over me. A refreshed, deep longing to return and continue the work placed before me ran like oxygen through my veins. I felt ready to dive back into ministry.
“Lord Jesus, thank You for the whales, such a magnificent, fun, demonstration of Your glory and power. Thank You for the rest that You offer me. Make me faithful to rise moment by moment to receive the life and strength You desire to give for the work You’ve called me to do. May I learn well the lesson of the whales.”
“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Jesus (Matthew 11:28)


