Come to the Well and Drink

August has been full.

A lot of good things. A lot of moving pieces. A lot of go, go, go.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, my quiet time with God slipped.

Not intentionally. I didn’t decide I didn’t need it anymore. Actually, I could feel the lack of it.

And I missed it.

But that’s one of the realities of really busy seasons. Our brains can lock onto the next task, the next thing that needs to happen, the next finish line.

Even when we can feel the lack, we can become so focused on finishing what’s in front of us that we keep postponing what we know we need.

After that particularly packed stretch of August was finally behind me, I woke up in the wee hours of the next morning.

It was around 3:00 a.m.

The house was completely quiet. No one needed anything. There was nowhere I had to be.

And I remember thinking…

F I N A L L Y.

I could just sit down. Rest. Be still. And simply be with God.

As I sat there, out of the blue a really fond memory came flooding back.

Forty years ago (whoa—40 years! 🤯), at this exact time of year, I was starting my senior year of high school and would have been in two-a-day basketball practices before school started. Back then in South Dakota, we played girls basketball in the fall, and this was before everyone carried water bottles everywhere.

Our water break was the school water fountain.

And our school had the coldest water fountain. 🧊💧😌

After doing sprints and killers and sweating in a hot gym, I remember standing at that fountain and just drinking and drinking and drinking.

That cold water was unbelievably refreshing.

And that is exactly what that morning with God felt like.

I already knew I was thirsty.

But there is a big difference between knowing you’re thirsty and finally getting a drink.

That morning was the drink.

There was no condemnation. No dramatic moment.

Just this deep sense of relief and refreshment.

Oh, how I missed being here.

There is something deeply satisfying about simply being with Jesus.

And I think sometimes the pace of life—even when it is filled with good things—can keep so much of our attention on what has to be done that our thirst gets pushed into the background.

We still feel it. We still know something is missing.

But the demands in front of us keep getting the loudest voice.

August was another reminder of how easily even something I value the most can get crowded out.

But it also reminded me of something even better:

➡️ Nothing refreshes like His presence.

➡️ Nothing restores like His presence.

➡️ Nothing satisfies like His presence.

There is a thirst in us that nothing we achieve, acquire, or accomplish can quench.

And the good news is, the invitation is always there.

Come to the well and drink.