PEACE

I experienced an interesting turning point this past weekend -- Friday night, to be exact.
The event: a birthday party for Grace, who turned two.
The place: our backyard.
The time: 6:30 p.m. - 9:30 p.m.
The participants: my husband, myself, my children, my parents, my two brothers and their families, my aunt and uncle.
The end result: PEACE.

I felt it. Yes. I really, truly did. We have spent the last several years in turmoil for various reasons, mostly having to do with vocation issues. Sure, we have experienced tremendous blessings, joy, and moments of great happiness. But it's been a while -- a long while -- since I really felt at peace. But what does that word really mean? Interestingly, I looked it up online for a true definition and I was stunned at the answer. Not that I didn't believe it, but I was stunned at how appropriate it really is for this part of my life. The primary definition of peace is this: "the state of prevailing during the absence of war" (Wordnet - Princeton) or put another way, "the absence of war or other hostilities" (The Free Dictionary). That's it! I felt a true absence of "war." For the last several years, that's what our life has felt like: a war, a constant and unrelenting battle. When we were quite literally removed from the front lines and moved here -- back home -- in February, we were seriously battle-weary. That's one of the first things our counselor said to us when we met; we had been in the trenches for so long and now we've been pulled back.

OK -- I know my Mennonite and other peace-loving friends (myself included) might balk at this kind of reference, but sometimes it just works -- and in this case it really is the best way to really sum it all up. And so that's what peace is: an absence of war, of fighting, of hostility, of back-stabbing, of malice, of hurt, of pain. And for the first time, in a long, long, long time that's what I felt. Friday night -- peace. We were celebrating the birth of our beautiful daughter, surrounded by those who love us the most and unconditionally. The five cousins played marvelously together; the adults sat around and talked and laughed. Bedtimes went out the window, and as the sky darkened the kids played with glow-in-the-dark necklaces that I got at the Dollar Store; the outdoor "party" lights and lanterns were on and the adults continued to talk and laugh and sip freshly brewed coffee (thanks, Don!). No one wanted it to end.

Somewhere in the midst of all that, I felt it: peace. It sort of snuck up on me, but all of a sudden I felt the unburdening, I felt truly happy. The second definition of peace is this: "a state of tranquility; serene; free from strife." For the first time in a long, long time, I felt just that: free. Tranquil. Serene. Free. For the first time, really, I felt OK with where my journey has lead me. But it was more than just feeling OK; I felt complete. I felt grounded. I felt a new sense of fulfillment and satisfaction. I felt that, yes, this is where I am supposed to be. I'm still not sure why, in the "big picture," but maybe that's just it: I need to stop looking at the "big picture" and heartily embrace this gift that I have been given. For the first time since coming home, I am able to recognize this as a gift rather than an escape; a homecoming rather than exile; wholeness rather than a broken dream. Yes ... I truly felt peace.

And the cool thing is that Don felt it too. Neither of us acknowledged any of this until after our guests left and our kids went to bed. We sat on the couch (or rather, collapsed -- while fun, it was also tiring) in silence for a while, just holding hands. Don spoke first: "Yes ... This is what it's all about." He felt it too, for the first time -- real healing and wholeness. Peace.

"This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes." Psalm 118:23