Every Summer has a Story

Aug 24 2026 Every Summer has a Story

“Every Summer Has A Story”  I saw those words printed beneath a beach painting: a woman sitting in the sand, gazing into the distance, lost in thoughts we’ll never know.

The words stayed with me for days.

Every season, every month, even every day carries its own story. Most days, I record a small bit of mine in my journal so I can look back and remember God’s threads of grace through it all.

Summer is my season. My favorite. The one I anticipate all year: beach days, the 4th of July, warm nights outside, stacks of books, outdoor concerts, pool time, and getaways.

But this year, this story of mine has been one of melancholy. Maybe you can relate.

The heaviness settled in before summer began, when a diagnosis of a family member sent me on a stressful path of decisions and a constant search for wisdom. It is a daily trial of unknowns and what-to-do’s. Then there are my own health trials nipping at my heels.

In June, my son, Noah, moved 2,891 miles away. New York holds great excitement for my 29-year-old son, and I am proud of him for taking this big leap and following his dream. So, I am trying to call this throb in my heart “bittersweet,” but I’m not there yet.

I’ve experienced a strained relationship loaded with rejection. My mind keeps spinning with whys and hows with no answers. These days also hold heartbreak for dear friends, and watching their pain stirs up my past, triggering memories of my own similar experiences.

The distressing conditions in the world, our country, and communities are intense. There’s a collective gloom in the zeitgeist which many of us feel. The headlines keep trailing after me, even when I try to step away.

Yet even in a time like this, God weaves small mercies across my days: my funny dogs doing their funny things, laughter and tears with friends, dates with Dan, yummy books, the delightful giggles of the world’s cutest granddaughter, a trip to Colorado, the book of Ephesians boosting my soul. And toes in the sand with eyes on the ocean, like the woman in the painting.

Jesus has a way of slipping light into the cracks with His glimmers of love and peace in my overwhelm. With these sweet reminders, I hear His voice telling me He is near; telling me I am not carrying any of this alone.

As August wanes, I see my summer story threaded with grace upon grace. And it’s enough for now: to trust that Jesus is writing a tale full of His purposes in a life-moment that feels oh so heavy. A signal that He is this dark world’s Light, the Star and Sun of all my seasons.

My friend, what is your summer story? I am sorry if it’s been a picture of sadness, loss, weariness, or trials. I pray Jesus will be your resting place of strength, holding you tightly with His marvelous grace upon grace.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“Come unto Me and rest;
Lay down, O weary one, lay down
Thy head upon My breast.”
I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad;
I found in him a resting-place,
And he has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“I am this dark world’s Light;
Look unto me, your morn shall rise,
And all your day be bright.”
I looked to Jesus, and I found
In him my Star, my Sun;
And in that Light of life I’ll walk,
Till trav’ling days are done.

“I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say,” Horatius Bonar (1846), verses 1 and 3