|Rocky Mountain National Park|
WRITTEN by Caroline D. Grimm
Screaming headlines. Social media overload. Crimes against humanity. Natural disasters. Kids fighting. Unexpected auto repairs. Late for work. We live in tumultuous times. You know the feeling, I’m sure. The constant barrage of bad news and personal stress and strife can lead us into a constant state of alarm, continually braced for “what’s next?”.
At times like these, it is hard to believe that we can ever feel that precious sense of peace. The kind of peace that comes not after the signing of a treaty that ends a destructive and heartbreaking war. Not the type of peace that comes with great clanging of bells and binding up of wounds and rancor that seeps down through generations. No, the peace I’m talking about is the kind of peace that comes with a quiet moment, as you sit watching the sun rise over the ocean, a cup of tea steaming in your hand. Peace that sinks deeply into the soul, bringing that sense of quiet well-being.
Those quiet moments of peace can never come by force or by command. There is no treaty that can be signed between governments to bring our internal wars to an end. Peace does not come in the midst of the work-a-day with all its rushing about. Instead, peace comes in the quietness of the morning or the calm at the end of the day. It is in the murmur of a bedtime story read to a warm and sleepy child. It is in the rhythmic purr of a cat as she sits on the porch railing in quiet contemplation. It is in the autumn sun filtering through the changing leaves, bathing the forest floor in dappled light.
If only we can steal those precious quiet times. Whittle them out of a frenetic day with a woodcarver’s steady hand. To feel ourselves fully present in the moment, if only for one breath. To feel the steady thump of our own heartbeat.
Peace comes gently, unexpectedly. She steps up on your front porch, an easy smile on her face, that old friend you’ve missed for years, pulling you into a gentle embrace. It is moments like that, moments that slip quietly into your weary heart.
Those moments when you realize after days or months or years of barely daring to breathe, you inhale deeply as though for the first time, filling the far reaches of your lungs with air, your chest expanding and relaxing. And Peace, feeling the turning of the tide, gently flows into the empty harbor of the soul, breathing, “All is well.”
May you find Peace, my friend. And in those times when you cannot, may Peace find you.