The Quiet Stillness

Have you ever tried to define Peace? To give it a tangible, physical form? I'm not quite sure it's possible. I don't even know if there is a way to describe it. Peace feels slippery. Something that's out there and hard to hold on to.

Maybe a definition is hard to come by because Peace looks different for every person. If I'm being honest, Peace boils down to me getting my way. Every time. It's the house being clean, and staying that way for more than 23 minutes. It's quiet. It's the absence of money worries. It's children who behave and a husband who automatically knows what I'm thinking. Is all that Peace? Not only is it NOT peace, it's not realistic.

But my mind can't let go of my made-up version. I want everything in order, at the right time and done the right way. Once that happens, then Peace will coat my world pretty. It waits in the wings until my life is perfect, and then it can make an entrance. Not a moment before.

My definition of Peace isn't working. Not a shocking revelation. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. Unrealistic ideas generally produce zero results.

What if my perception needs changing? Peace stays the same, always has, always will. But what if I've been looking for it to be defined by all the wrong things? What if Peace is the starting point instead of the final wrap up? What if Peace could exist right along side the noisy, messy, stressful and failure? Hmm. That kind of Peace sounds like something I can hold tight to.

There is a quiet stillness that comes with Peace. Most days, I tend to try and demand that quiet to come from everything and everyone that surrounds me. But, maybe Peace can only grow from the inside out. Maybe it doesn't respond to demands. And maybe the quiet only settles deep when I let my soul be still.

That kind of peace has little to do with my children's behavior or the state of my bank account. And everything to do with me. Not the outside me, but the inside me. That kind of peace, the kind that can still me long enough to see with better eyes, can most definitely paint my world pretty.

Up and Out

On a scale of 1 to 10, how do you feel about the stomach flu? I can't even rate it, I hate it so much. This virus has worked its way through our family for the last week. How exactly does it know the very moment I have cleaned, washed and Lysol-ed every. solitary. surface. of the house? How, I ask you? Because, in that very germ-free moment, the next person starts throwing up and I consider running away.

If we can be immunized for chicken pox, why not the stomach bug? Why, oh why. What if the government takes all the money for space exploration and puts it towards the 'Barfies Vaccine'? It's a genius idea, I'm telling you. Maybe I'll start a petition for it. Would you sign?

I'm Confused

My sister sent this to me. I totally don't get it. What it she even talking about? Seriously. I want to know.

Sweet

Enjoy your Sweet Hearts today.

Happy Valentine's

Grace, Reading, And The Random Inbetween

If I could choose the way to spend my time, I would read. All day, every day. I would bake a dessert here and there, but other than that, I would read. Years ago, I didn't particularly like reading, I didn't have the patience for it. But now I've come to the point in my life that I really don't care about all the things I "should" be doing. Thus, books have taken hold. I've turned into my mother. I can't decide what I think about that.

Reading has become my avenue for finding Grace. Actually, I think it's probably the only way to find it. We have to search for it in words and then let them sink deep and change our hearts. The reading is easy. The changing and believing? Not so much.

My favorite blogger has written a book about Grace. It's been out for some time and I've wanted it, but haven't deemed myself worthy of the $11 required to buy it. Crazy thinking, I know. Child #1 needs new running shoes almost every other month. Somehow I don't think twice about buying $110 shoes. But when it comes to my own wishes, I can't seem to justify their fulfillment. That's probably only one of the reasons I need Grace and this book, so I simply begged my mom to buy it for me.

If you are on your own quest for Grace, read this book. In fact, read her blog. Every day. If her words could take on physical form, I would pour them all into my tub and soak them into my skin. Go on, read. You'll see.

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Would it shock you to know that I need a parenting book? More than likely, I need several. This one has been sitting in plain view for about a week. I don't dare crack it open. Why? What if it tells me I've been doing it wrong for all these years? Or, what if I've been doing it right, and it still doesn't make a difference? I generally avoid these types of books, they give me guilt. I hate guilt.

Child #3 noticed the book the other day and picked it up. She looked at me and asked, "So, are you going to learn to do magic?" I told her that if I knew magic, I would have made myself invisible years ago.

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My kids are addicted to the Super Nanny. They watch endless episodes on Saturdays. Drives me crazy. Todd finally gave an ultimatum that they weren't allowed to watch until they all agreed to actually take Nanny's advice and USE IT. They immediately turned off the TV. Maybe this is why I need more parenting books.

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Every now and then, I worry that my hair looks like a mushroom. Todd and Child #1 have caught wind of my anxiety. They have started calling me "Shroom Head". Love knows no bounds around here. Get in line if you need a little self esteem.

***

Look for a little Grace this week. Oh, and how about a good dose of magic? Might just be the perfect combination.

Scary

Things that scare me:

1. Roller coasters
2. Cockroaches
3. Vegetables
4. People who don't eat sugar.
5. Calls from the Principal (actually, I'm getting used to that one).
6. Airplanes
7. Couples who wear matching shirts. On purpose.
8. Having a daughter who is old enough, and athletic enough, to have earned a letterman jacket. The next blink of my eyes will carry her away to college. Very scary, indeed.

The Director

From my seat, I had a direct sight line to her. She sang. I watched. And she made my heart smile. The performers were a region group compiled from auditions. They were gathered and taught by professionally trained, university musicians. A breathtaking performance to hear.

But, as I watched her, I soon realized that the choir director also stood within my line of sight. I found myself watching the way her hands moved to lead each portion of the song. Sometimes her arms stretched wide, and at other times she brought her hands low and close. With each movement, the singers responded. Their eyes were trained on her and it felt as if her directions pulled and softened the music from within them.

Not once did she need to speak her directions. Not once did her student's eyes leave her motions. She guided them and they followed. And the result was inspiring. Something to tuck away and hold near.

I have wondered since that concert about Directors. I've come to see that there are many different kinds, not just the ones that are musically gifted. Whether I like it or not, I'm a Director. These children of mine watch and follow. What do my actions pull from them? Where exactly am I guiding them and will they trust me enough to walk that path?

We are each a Director, in our own way. We carry a role only filled with our unique training. Eyes are on us. Voices are following. My soul believes that the only way to know our true course, is to follow Him. He who is our original Director. He who guides and walks beside. If we watch Him without wavering, if we see His instructions with purpose, then, and only then, will our music ring true.

Find your Director and let Him mold you into your own. Lift your arms and stretch them wide. Be the Director you were always meant to become.

Why Are They So Strange?

There are intermittent times where I pacify myself into thinking that my family is normal. I shield my eyes and try to forget the crazy parts. This doesn't last long, but it's nice to pretend.

Child #1 has decided she wants a hedgehog. Who asks for that kind of pet? I had the audacity to inquire if it was similar to a porcupine. She looked at me with utter horror and refused to answer my question.

Child #2 has been trying to talk to birds. Oh yes. It's true. I have watched her stand at the bus stop for the last several days while she mimics the bird calls overhead. Last week I even caught her trying to walk like the birds that had landed on the grass.

Child #3 has taken to wearing the same pair of jeans. Every. Single. Day. It's maddening. I've tried hiding them. That went well.

The Husband has taken his chap stick obsession to a new level. He is now wearing a cherry flavored lip balm. Now he constantly smells like a fruit salad. It's weird and slightly unnerving.

Have you ever noticed that calm, soft-spoken parents tend to have calm, soft-spoken children? If that theory rings true, then whose to blame for my family's oddness? Hmm?