Peace

For years I saw my role in life as a peacemaker. Born on Armistice Day (the peace treaty was signed for WWI on November 11th, and later renamed Veterans Day) and by temperament the peacemaker in a crazy, alcoholic dominated family, I did everything in my power to bring peace. That meant swallowing my words, especially words I knew weren’t wanted, ignoring my own emotions and pain, and doing whatever those around me wanted “to keep the peace.” Boundaries and that wonderful two lettered word, “No” weren’t even on my horizon.

When we started attending church, I picked up on the verses that encouraged my peace-keeping practices. “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Matt 5:9 ESV
“Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no “root of bitterness” springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled Hebrews 12:14-15 ESV
Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it. Psalm 34:14 ESV

By the time I arrived at my teenage years, I was well versed in ducking my head, “fixing” things, reading the temperature of the people around me, and doing whatever it took to “keep the peace.”

Because I thought peace was my job, even memorizing great verses couldn’t help. “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Phil 4:6-7 ESV

Not being anxious was yet another job to add to my to-do list.

If someone had asked me what I wanted, just for me, I wouldn’t have known how to answer. My own feelings didn’t get enough time in my conscious mind to even register.

Being a peacemaker translated into being a people-pleaser.

Making new resolves.

And the harder I tried, the less peace I had.

I made many poor choices, though I didn’t realize I was making choices.

Even at my best, it was me, the Peacemaker, trying harder. Pulling it together.

That made me a doormat and a boring date.

In marriage, it made me a doormat and a boring mate.

Looking outside myself didn’t really help. In the news and magazines, instructions from gurus and shamans and politicians abounded, sources all over the world offered peace, where there was no peace.

They have healed the wound of my people lightly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace. Jeremiah 6:14 ESV
And you shall know that I am the Lord God. Precisely because they have misled my people, saying, ‘Peace,’ when there is no peace, and because, when the people build a wall, these prophets smear it with whitewash, say to those who smear it with whitewash that it shall fall! Ezekiel 13:9b-11 ESV

I didn’t know it was impossible for me to be the one to bring peace, or that peace isn’t something I can work for or contrive.

It took a lot of pain, blind alleys, false starts and long roads to get to the place where I couldn’t go on. In total defeat, I surrendered my Peacemaker badge.

Once I gave up trying to be god in my life, and in the lives of everyone around me (come on now, isn’t that what we’re doing when we try to make everything right?) I discovered the treasure of joblessness.

I found the most wonderful gift.

The presence of one who is peace.

Instead of projecting what might happen so I can fix it before it starts, and watching everyone to ward off an injury or bandage a hurt, instead of anxiously watching faces for affirmation, attention that is fleeting and shallow, I snuggle up to the God of Peace.

And in the presence of the God of green hope, I am getting to know me, the one I was created to be, distinct and special, just as you are.

Unique.

Wonderful.

So this year, as I raise my flag on Veterans’ Day, I know I’m not the one to bring peace, for me, my family or my world.

Tell me, where do you find your peace?

Peace by J F Thompson — Peace
poem by J F Thompson

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times in every way. The Lord be with you all. 2 Thess 3:16 ESV

Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope! Romans 15:13 MSG

I love life

I love life. I don’t mean the “Rah! Rah! Let’s have a party” kind of loving life. I love to encourage things to grow and protect the weak. When I’m peeling carrots or scrubbing sweet potatoes, if there’s a sprout on top of the carrot or an eye growing from a sweet potato, I have to cut it off with a wide margin and give it a chance to become a new vegetable.

Some make it, and the ones that don’t live go to compost, at least giving life to another plant down the way.

I can’t cut open an avocado without inserting three toothpicks in the seed and finding the right-sized jar so only half of the seed will sit in the water.

This tree grew from one of my seeds. (We just had our first crop of avocados, but the squirrels are loving life too, and not sharing much with us.)

When I scrape seeds from a butternut squash, I have to dig a hole and bury the whole mess. Sometimes they grow, and I’m delighted.

The black, sticky seeds of papayas are too much to ignore. In the ground they go. I have little papaya trees all around, this year producing the first blossoms.

After buying a Kiett Mango at a local farmers market, assured it will grow in Central Florida, I nestled the seed in the ground with my compost, and now have a thriving mango tree.

Of course, I love babies. Baby animals,

Lily in a basket

Tracey and Caitlin

and even more, baby people (my grandchildren on the top of the list).

Kyle loves Mommy's kisses — Kyle loves Mommy’s kisses

Several days ago, while out walking my Golden, Lily, I moved some Spanish moss that had fallen on a vine I’ve been admiring, and accidentally broke off about a foot of the plant. Since it contained a few buds, I brought it home and put in water.

It has continued to develop and the buds have opened, but instead of the brilliant red in my neighbor’s yard, this one is pale and pathetic. No longer attached to the vine and feed by the sun, the flower doesn’t have the life force it needs to really bloom, much less go to seed.

So like me.

I don’t think we were meant to go it on our own, any more than that flower I picked off the vine.

On my own, I am not the energizer battery. Unless I’m connected to my life-source, I soon run out of steam. Everything begins to look too hard, too big, too much, too little time, too little energy.

As an English major in college, one of my favorite poets was Dylan Thomas. Several of his poems have stuck in my mind, and this line in particular.

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower: Dylan Thomas

I thought he was really profound, but I realize now there was something missing in his poetry, and that was the source of his angst.

The Source.

After the pain, after the loss, even after the daily-ness of life, like the psalmist so long ago, there is only one I go to, one place I can go to recharge.

Fill us each morning with your constant love,
so that we may sing and be glad all our life.
Ps 90: 14 MSG

But once I’m plugged in, the music plays in my soul again, and I love life!

“I am the vine, and you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will bear much fruit; for you can do nothing without me. John 15:5 MSG

It is the power of his love.

(Most of these photos were taken with cell phones, so the quality is not up to the usual.)

How do you recharge?

Not one sparrow

My prayer request list is growing heavy. A young family loses their husband/father to a vicious cancer. A fiancée, instead of planning her wedding, dreads the anniversary of the jog her loved one never returned from last year. A son goes off to college, and two months later is diagnosed with stage four cancer. Others battle infections, chronic pain, family hostility, strokes, break-ups, houses that won’t sell, or bills that can’t be paid.

It’s pulling me to my knees.

Sometimes in tears, always with anguished heart, I lift the aching ones up to the father who cares.

In this huge, crazy world, how can anyone care about every person, every family, and every broken heart?

I know only one who can, because he is love. Love that never fails. The source of life, and in the end, all we have.

And not one sparrow falls to the earth without his knowledge.

The common house sparrow is probably the least noble or photographed of all feathered creatures. They certainly aren’t sought after by birders, since sparrows cluster in towns and cities, and their little tan bodies display little to warrant attention.

We’d expect him to notice great birds of flight, or colorful plumage

swan in Switzerland ©Jack H Thompson — swan ©Jack H Thompson

or rare appearances.

Blue-footed Boobie, Fernandina, Galapagos

Sparrows can’t swim, fish or land or take off in the water.

And they certainly aren’t fierce or noble.

Nevertheless, each tiny sparrow gets his attention.

And every hair on your head. Thick and curly, thin or balding, he knows them all, even the ones you washed down the drain in the shower.

He knows our loses in more detail than we do.

And he cares.

By now, are you singing this song?

Glimpse of Peace

Towards healing and wholeness

Author: Jane Foard Thompson

Peace

I love life

Not one sparrow

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Glimpse of Peace

Towards healing and wholeness

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