Pool Noodles Don’t Prepare You for Life’s Waves

Life’s waves don’t wait for you to be ready and pool noodles don't prepare you for those waves.

One of my favorite things to do in Hawaii is wave jumping. There’s something exhilarating that comes from spotting the perfect wave, timing the jump, and feeling the water lift you like you’re part of the ocean for just a second.

One afternoon, while I was lounging on the beach soaking up the sun, my sister convinced me to join her in the water. She swore the waves were perfect and assured that I wouldn’t lose my favorite sunglasses. I should have known better, considering the ocean had already claimed a few pairs.

Feeling confident, I waded in. Both boogie boards were already taken, so I improvised. I slipped a pool noodle around my waist (my version of “preparation”) and headed straight in the ocean. I spotted what seemed like a manageable wave forming. I braced myself and jumped....

Big mistake.

The wave hit with full force. It knocked me off my feet, spun me around a few times and left me clawing my way back to the surface as my brother later described me a “human sandcastle.” My sunglasses were gone, my hands were scraped, and I spent the next several days getting sand out of places sand should never be.

My nieces and nephew later told us that watching Aunt Tiff get taken out by a wave was the highlight of the day.

As I sat there afterward, dripping, sandy, and slightly bruised, I had a moment of clarity: "that did not go the way I planned". I walked into the ocean totally convinced I was ready for whatever came my way. Clearly, I had misjudged both the wave and my definition of preparation.

The more I thought about it, the more it stuck with me. How often do we step into challenges believing our small, makeshift version of preparation will be enough? Sometimes our “preparation” looks an awful lot like that pool noodle: helpful to a point, but nowhere near what’s needed for the wave that’s coming.

Life has a pretty impressive way of sending waves in our direction, sudden changes, unexpected responsibilities, hard seasons. They don’t show up politely or schedule themselves into our calendars. They just appear.

The question isn’t if the waves will come.

They will.

The real question is whether we’ve built the kind of preparation that actually holds when the water gets rough.

True preparation; emotional, spiritual, practical isn’t loud or dramatic. It grows quietly through the small things: nurturing faith, strengthening relationships, learning and stretching ourselves, taking care of our minds and bodies, building routines that keep us steady when life is anything but predictable.

None of those things stop the waves from coming. Hawaii made sure I understood that.

But preparation changes how hard the wave hits and how quickly we recover afterward. Looking back, the problem that day wasn’t the wave. Waves are just part of the ocean. The problem was thinking my neon pool noodle counted as real preparation.

Life is the same way. Challenges and responsibilities will show up whether we’re ready or not. Real preparation isn’t something you grab last minute. It’s something you build long before you need it.

And when the wave finally comes, you might still get knocked around. You might still get tossed and come up with seaweed in your hair. But with real preparation beneath you, you’ll find your footing faster and you’ll walk away with more clarity than chaos and a lot less sand in your ears (and everywhere else).

Real preparation isn’t a pool noodle you grab at the last minute. It’s the steady foundation you build long before life’s waves arrive.

XOXO

Tiffanee

Walk with Me

   

A few times each year, a friend and I sign up for local races. We always laugh because we “race together”… just not at the same speed. I run, she walks. I usually finish long before she does, and instead of waiting at the finish line, I turn around, jog back along the course and find her. Then we walk the last stretch together.

Over the years, those shared miles have become my favorite part of every race.

When I’m running, I’m focused on the finish line, on pace, time, and momentum. But when I slow down to walk with her, a different world opens up. I start noticing things I completely missed while running: wildflowers pushing up through the cracks in the road, little artistic murals on old buildings, small details that would have blurred by at a faster pace. We talk. We laugh. We process life and mile by mile, our friendship has deepened not in the running, but in the walking.

There’s something sacred about slowing down enough to see what’s been there all along.

It reminds me of a quiet but powerful moment in the book of Moses, when the Lord speaks to Enoch. Enoch feels painfully inadequate; too young, too shy, too weak, too overlooked. He describes himself as “slow of speech” and someone others don’t take seriously. In today’s language, he might have said, “Why me? I’m not qualified.”

But the Lord doesn’t give Enoch a pep talk or a list of reasons he’s secretly amazing.

He simply extends an invitation:

“Walk with me.”

Those three simple words change everything. 

The Lord doesn’t say, “Go do this alone,” “Be perfect first,” or “Figure it all out before you start.” He invites Enoch into companionship, into movement, into a journey taken together, step by step. 

As Enoch accepts that invitation, something transformative happens. His capacity expands. His confidence strengthens. His spiritual eyesight sharpens until he sees things “not visible to the natural eye.” But all of that begins not with running, not with sprinting, but with walking. 

It begins with a walk.

Walking is relational.
Walking requires presence.
Walking makes space for noticing, listening, and connecting.

It’s the same lesson I learn every time I circle back to walk with my friend: the most meaningful moments often unfold at a slower pace.

Scripture often highlights big miracles and dramatic moments, but so much of discipleship happens in the quiet, steady rhythm of daily living. Walking with God doesn’t require perfect performance or flawless faith.

It looks like:

• slowing down enough to feel a nudge of the Spirit,
• noticing beauty you might have overlooked,
• choosing kindness when you’re tempted to rush past someone,
• letting God into your thoughts, your conversations, your small decisions.

Walking with God means letting Him set the pace one that allows for peace, connection, and growth.

Enoch’s story and even my small race experience reminds us that God doesn’t need flawless people. He needs willing people. People who will keep moving forward with Him even when they feel overwhelmed, too slow, or not enough. 

People who trust that if they take a step, 
He will magnify the path beneath their feet. 

What Does “Walk With Me” Look Like for You?

Maybe walking with God today means slowing your own pace just a little.
Maybe it means noticing something beautiful you’ve been rushing past.
Maybe it’s being present with someone who needs companionship.

Maybe it’s trusting that your imperfect efforts are enough.

However it looks for you, the invitation is the same as it was for Enoch:

“Walk with me.”

Just like my race experience, when we turn around, slow our pace and walk with Him, he will show us things we never would have seen on our own.  He will deepen our connection to Him.  He will make more out of our steps, small as they may seem and know you got this because he's got you 

                    

xoxo

Tiffanee