It’s Just You and Me, God

I walked along a beach on the Oregon coast, watching waves crash against giant black basalt boulders. The day was gray and cold and damp, as days often are in Oregon, even in August. I walked alone, though my husband was somewhere near, on that same beach. 

We were on a road trip, just the two of us, our children being old enough to have other things to do that summer, work and school. We were driving from Washington, where his parents lived, to California, where my parents lived. We were in the midst of an argument.

The topic of that quarrel doesn’t matter to this story, but it was deep and angry and seemed unsolvable. At some point I had walked away, along the hard, damp sand, the cold wind gusting at my tears. As I paced along the shore, I imagined telling my problems to someone, someone who might help. But who? Who could help me?

Not my children. Not my parents. Not my friends. Certainly not my husband. This was not something any of them could help with. There was no one on earth who could help.

I clambered out on a mammoth boulder and yelled my pain. Waves crashed around me, roaring in my ears. The wind whipped my hair against my cheeks and made my eyes sting.  Feeling utterly alone, I sobbed out into the crashing waves and roaring wind, confident no one would hear. “There’s no one to help. It’s just you and me, God! Just you and me!”

Then, through the thunder of the waves and the howling of the wind, I heard what I had just cried. Just you and me, God. 

Just me—and God. God, the creator of the universe, the Savior of the world. The one who can calm the waves and heal the leper and feed the 5,000. The one who knows me better than myself, who knows my pain and my sorrow. The one who has felt my pain and my sorrow. The one who also knows my potential and my ability. The one who cared so much about me and my life, he was willing to die for me.

At that moment, I knew. I knew. If it’s just me and this source on unlimited power, then really. I’m OK. 

My tears slowed, then ceased. I began to breath. I began to pray. I explained my problem. I listened.

I walked back up the beach to my husband, knowing we – God and I—could work through this. 

I remember this moment whenever I feel alone and afraid and overwhelmed by what seem to be impossible challenges. Whatever I face, I am not alone. God is with me. 

And with God, nothing is impossible.