Saturday, October 25, 2014

25 | Be @ Peace

Remember yesterday?  When we sat here in this corner of the blogosphere, but were simultaneously cozy in God's lap, looking at the world from a higher altitude? Remember that peace and calm and stillness?

What happened to your day after you floated down all gentle and serene?  I hope you were able to carry God's stillness with you, like a warm fuzz in your pocket.

I floated down, landed gently, buzzed here, zipped there, did errands, slid in a meeting between slices of commitments, returned home for a bit of rest.

That's when the wheels fell off my zen bus.

Background: I'm the kind of gal who likes a tidy house, a minimalist who gets bugged by clutter. When I'm worn out, I especially need a place where my eyes can rest without socks that urge, "Scoop me up!" Or papers that shout, "Process me!"  Or supplies that cry, "Slip me back into my proper place!"

Do you see where this is going?  Do you sense mom/wife crabbitude cranking up?

Instead of feeling like I could rest in my homey little nest, I got my undies in a bundle over this:

Arrgghhhhh!  Here, there, and everywhere.  All. the. time.

Which had me wanting to write a memo to my family.  Something along the lines of:

Dear Mr., Blondie, and BallBoy; 
I love you dearly.  Each one of you.  I love your hugs and laughter, your energy and sparks.  I adore who you are at the core and who you are becoming.  I cherish what you mean to our family, and I celebrate the way I see God shine through you every day. 
But I cannot stand the trail of clutter and crumbs and crap — yes, I'm saying the "C" word! — that you leave in your wake.  It's making me coo-coo for CocoaPuffs and you know I'm turning against sugared cereal, so that means I'm seriously crabby.  Crotchety.  Cantankerous. 
I've tried friendly notes and patient reminders and passive aggressive packing-up-junk-and-hiding-it away.  I've tried bribing and badgering and shouting and pouting.  But I am still looking at this junk. 
You've heard me say it before, but I'll say it again now, just in case this umpteenth time the message will cross the threshold of your attention and stick to your brilliant brains.  When you leave your dirty dishes, your messy paper scraps, your used kleenex lying around, it's like you are saying, "No problem.  Mrs./Mama has got this. She's our family maid.  What else does she have to do with her time?" 
Lots, people.  LOTS.   
So if you want me to continue doing the invisible things like meal planning, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, sanitizing, scrubbing toilets, picking up dog poop, managing the many-headed hydra that is our family calendar, sewing on Cub Scout patches, making lunches, braiding hair, scratching backs, and all those glorious things that fall under my Chief Sanity Officer of the Family Headquarters, I suggest you start picking up your stuff! 
From henceforth you are on double-not-so-secret-probation. If I do not see a considerable change in effort and clutter control, I will go on strike.  (Or I will go to a spa, whichever is more satisfying.)
With love, affection, squeezy hugs and big kisses,
Really?  REALLY?

Oh, it felt good to draft that memo.  But just seeing my non-peaceful thoughts on the screen reminded me that my frustration is way out of whack.  Just walking into a couple other rooms and witnessing my own clutter set my bitterness back on its feet.

Ooops.  Guess those apples don't fall too far from the tree.
These are first world problems.  Minutiae in the whole scheme of things.  God certainly doesn't see any of this when he looks down on my home each day.  Where did my higher altitude, my better perspective go?

Time for some serious stillness.  Time for some powerful prayer.

Note:  If my clutter craze isn't your burden today, just fill in whatever is annoying the heck out of you in the following prayer.  And if your day is free from annoyances, praise God and pray for the rest of us!


Are you laughing at me and my crazy crabbiness?  I'm sure I look pretty funny from where you are.  Help me to adopt your sense of humor, your understanding, your perspective, your unconditional love, because I don't want to be this maniac Mama and Mrs.

I want your peace.

I want to see the world as you see it, looking for love to share and hurt to heal, seeing beyond the mess to where you can write your message.  

I want to ask you to help me ignore the distracting junk and clutter, or to patiently pick it up.  Pathetically, my heart isn't really behind that prayer yet.  Can you create in me a clean heart that doesn't obsess about cleanliness?

Oh, Lord.  You see what the world gives to me, and you offer something so much better — your precious peace.  Lasting peace.  Understanding peace.  Peace that promotes loving kindness.  I need daily doses of your serenity and calm, and you always supply.  Thank you for taking the trouble out of my heart, for wiping away my fear and anxiety.  Thank you for clearing away that spiritual clutter so that your peace has room to breathe and stretch and dwell in my heart and all that I do.

The only clutter you care about is the stuff that gets stuffed in between me and you. Remind me  that annoyances will come and go, but people are gifts to be treasured. Help me to nurture my relationships with the lovely little (and big) mess-makers in my family.  Help me to nurture my relationship with you.

And when bitterness crowds my heart, when anxieties create angst, open my heart in prayer.  Coax me back to the sweet, still place where I can talk with you through my annoyances and to the other side of gratitude.  Place your peace in the center of my heart, and make it spread to my mind and my actions and my words.  

I'm going to linger here for a minute, Lord, soaking up the assurance of your peace. My words may fade away to quiet, but my soul will still savor your divine serenity.

Thank you for your precious peace.


There's more peace on the horizon, should you need it.

Jenn at
is writing a 31 Days series on peace.

Jamie at
offers more peace through her series.

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