Walking down to the lake early on a July morning, I feel the joy of margin.
I’m not thinking about meetings or deadlines.
Just space to see…
the lake.
the birds.
the wind.
Steve Blaising enjoys early morning coffee on a jet ski, Lake Athens, Texas.
A turtle lifts its head as I ease the jet ski into the calm water.
Soon I’m idling along at four miles an hour, coffee in hand, a camera in the running board.
I’m in no hurry.
Then it hits me. Margin isn’t about finding more time. It’s about protecting time. Margin doesn’t over-schedule. It sets limits before life sets them for us.
One year after the Camp Mystic flood, the devastating losses of July 4, 2025, still reverberate across Texas and beyond.
At the gym today, I saw an interview with three dads who lost their daughters in the flood, sharing how and why they maintain their unwavering faith in God.
Twenty-eight people at Camp Mystic died in that flood, including 25 campers, two counselors, and camp director Dick Eastland.
Across Central Texas, the catastrophic flooding claimed at least 137 lives.
The Guadalupe River rose 26 feet in less than an hour at dawn on July 4, 2025.
This is worse than a 100-year flood event, according to experts.
Approximately 100 billion gallons of rain fell on Kerr County, more than the daily flow of Niagara Falls.
Cabin where 20 girls went missing on July 5, 2025, in the Guadalupe River flood/Ronaldo Schemidt/gettyimages
Some folks say it’s never wise to camp by a river, especially one in the middle of “Flash Flood Alley,” where historic floods in August 1978 and July 1987 caused multiple fatalities.
But I think it’s fair to say there’s no place in the world to camp without risks.
An old Spanish proverb says, “There is no home which does not at some time know its hush.”
Three decisive steps may set a healing course for anyone drowning in tragedy.
