Ever since I was a little girl, one of my mom’s favorite things would be to go out and collect seashells. We’d pack up for the beach, trek down with all our gear, and she’d cut us loose to our shenanigans as she’d retreated to her own world. For what felt like hours, she’d scan the shoreline or dive in with a mask on to search in the water for little shell treasures. Only every so often would she pop up and exclaim, “I’ve found a honey hole, guys!” at the top of her lungs, probably trying to stir our interest and get us to join.
To no surprise, we kids, being kids, had no time to treasure hunt for seashells with Mom. A honey hole had much more value to her than it did to us at the time.
Flash forward to now, and I’ve caught on to the magic that she, for so long, had tried to share with us. See, a honey hole is a jackpot. A sweet spot. A place where abundance exists and pure joy flows.
In my adult years, it’s easier for me to see how something as simple as a collection of precious seashells can truly be a respite for an overworked, tired, and depleted mom to recharge. I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was my first choice if someone were to ask me, “What would you like to do today?”
I’ve been thinking about honey holes a lot lately. Not just the seashell kind. We’ve been overcoming a sickness that took us out at the knees, juggling big change, and barely managing life when it feels just a little too much some days.
These honey holes are a place of relief. It only takes a moment in a honey hole to find the space you need to breathe.
Over these last couple weeks I’ve found myself desperate for Jesus and needing a quiet place to retreat. I don’t know where you’ve been lately, but between you and I, the world simply appears to be falling a part right at the seams. When the going gets tough and the compounding of everything feels heavy, I wonder how others bare the weight and keep going.
If it weren’t for my faith in the savior of our world, I don’t think I would be able to keep on doing. It certainly is none of my business how you carry on, or what you believe, though I do feel compelled to offer you a hand because Jesus was so generous to offer one to me.
At this point in my journey, I feel honored that there’s been more than one time where I’ve felt the goodness of Jesus and His saving. These holy moments are a testament to some of them, and I continue to write them as an effort to share in my healing.
There are more than a few accounts throughout the gospels where Jesus talks about praying.
(Mark 6:31–32, Matthew 6:17–18, Matthew 6:6, Matthew 14:23, John 6:15, Matthew 14:13, Luke 4:42, Luke 5:16)
He’d often find himself in overwhelming situations, seeming unfazed and quick to retreat alone to a place to pray. I imagine He thought of these places as honey holes himself—a place where he’d be able to find some relief. He’d go off to connect with His Father in heaven, where His love was abundant, and a recharging joy flowed freely.
Do you have your own honey hole? A place where you retreat when the weight you are carrying gets too heavy?
This may just be the reminder that you need. Jesus himself is sweet like honey, a true savior of our soul. Time with Him, no matter who you are or where you stand, is accessible and available to all. The healing, the therapy, the answers you need, the relationship, the break, or anything in between can be found in a honey hole with Jesus. And I can tell you from experience that He is there waiting for you and is ready to listen.
I challenge you this week to go on a hunt for your own honey hole. Don’t look too hard, just be open to finding. Allow yourself to find a moment to retreat. Take yourself out of your own shoes, maybe walk in the sand with just you and your bare feet.
My hope is that you, too, will find something sweet. Maybe it’s a jackpot of seashells, or maybe it’s a few moments of relief. Selfishly, I hope you meet Jesus at your honey hole, and I hope you won’t be too proud to let Him wash your feet.
