Back from the beach

I've been unpacking...in more ways than one, all the stuff it takes to move a small army to Cape May for a week of beach chairs, books and watching the Olympics.  
 I have too high of expectations for vacations, I guess.  I always think my marriage, which is really good, will have a chance to unwind some of its still-irritating kinks, that I'll hug my kids more than I really do, and that I'll certainly get more sleep than I normally do.  
Well, vacation's been wonderful, but a little tiring, and I'm afraid I've come back concerned.  Much to do now that we're home, and I'm not just talking about the laundry.  
I've been so grateful for the sunrises, for the powerful beauty of the waves crashing on the black rocks, and climbing with surprising perseverance onto the sandy shore.  
I got caught, once, while running at water's edge, by a wave that came in faster and farther than the others and completely soaked my left shoe.  Loved that...the slap, slosh sound for the rest of that run.  
I left most of the sand there, only took a little home in the laundry bag and on the bottoms of the flip-flops, but still I feel the burden of the weeks ahead.  
Oswald Chambers says, 
“We are not made for the mountains, for sunrises, or for the other beautiful attractions in life - those are simply intended to be moments of inspiration. We are made for the valley and the ordinary things of life and that is where we have to prove our stamina and strength.” 
I'm stepping back into the valleys and ordinary things, and I don't feel like I've got much stamina or strength.  The beach was wonderful for running, flat, which is nothing like my neighborhood here.
Time to get back to running up the hills, proving my stamina and strength...really God's strength working powerfully through me, back here in the hard, ordinary, wonderful life God's given me.