Rest and Be Thankful

There’s a place tucked into the Highlands of Scotland where travelers pause at the summit of a steep mountain pass. It’s called Rest and Be Thankful. Centuries ago, soldiers and builders carving their way through rugged terrain stopped at that very point…not because the road was finished, but because they had come far enough to recognize it.

They rested. They gave thanks. And then, they kept going.

That phrase has been echoing in my spirit lately. Not only because I’ve stood at the pass recently, but because I feel like I’ve lived the meaning of it.

This has been a long, uphill journey, personally and as a family.

We’ve climbed through grief, through seasons of feeling lost, through transitions that stripped us down to the barest version of who we were. Since leaving North Carolina in 2020, we’ve felt the ache of leaving behind a church we loved, a family we leaned on, and a sense of belonging that had become part of us.

Corsicana didn’t fit, though we tried to make it home. We lost my mom. Calen lost his grandparents. We spent time helping family members rebuild their lives, even as we were trying to rebuild ours.

And then came Glen Rose.

In February 2023, we moved into a neighborhood not knowing it would become a healing ground. Our kids found friendships that brought life back into their hearts. We found community that felt like family again. Calen helped launch a nonprofit for veterans, and I stepped into roles I never imagined - ones that reminded me I was still growing, still being called.

And in the middle of it all, Scotland stayed on our hearts. Quietly at first, then louder, until we couldn’t ignore the invitation God was placing before us.

Now we stand in the in-between—the summit before the next climb. And this moment feels like that sacred spot in the Highlands. The road hasn’t been easy. It’s been steep and full of switchbacks. But we’re pausing here, at this place in our story, to rest and be thankful.

Thankful for the doors God opened.
Thankful for the people who walked beside us.
Thankful for the way He never wasted a single detour.

Because we’ve made it this far by grace.
And if He brought us up this mountain, He’ll walk us down the other side.

There’s more to come, and we’ll keep climbing. But today, we breathe deep.
We rest.
And we are thankful.

—Candice
Wife, mother, veteran, and fellow traveler