In the middle of Sunday mass this weekend I made the decision to write my blog series this week on peace. That’s what I do, pick the topic, find the words later. No research really, I start with an idea, an intention, then see what follows.
The sun shone through the window, the words of the homily spoke to me, my husband a non-church- goer was even seated next to me, my heart was full and light at the same time. I sat content, inspired, you could say peaceful.
This morning, when hubby’s alarm went off at 5:40, I was the one who woke up. Fighting off the beginning stage of a cold, my body feeling anything but light, I wanted to keep sleeping. For an hour I tossed and turned, not at peace. My mind unraveling thoughts, like pulling a blanket from a sleeping child’s legs that has twisted its way around tightly.
After Sunday I have been feeling the opposite of peaceful. My breathing has accelerated, I have developed a bug, items aren’t getting checked off the list, I’ve agreed to do too much…blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
In my tossing and turning this morning I remembered my intention to write about peace all started with a song sung at church, words that speak to my heart every time I hear them. The Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi speaks of being an instrument of peace. To be an instrument of peace in this precious life I am living was my intention and I let all that was happening around me block the light.
I thought I needed to sleep, but in the tossing and turning I found a bit of clarity, some acceptance and new inspiration.
When I am feeling a sore throat come on, my body is signaling me too slow down, be gentle with myself, take good care, not charge ahead at full steam. Some of the best intentions just need us to let go of the steering wheel.
I wasn’t willing to do that Monday and Tuesday of this week, so my breathing was anything but peaceful. But here on Wednesday I am remembering my intention, winding my way back to breathing deeper and slower, even if things aren’t getting checked off the list as fast as I’d like them to, my legs are coming loose from the blanket so that I can stand up and remember to open the blinds to let some light through the window.
As I learn peace doesn’t come from the state of all around you, it comes from a place inside, deep inside of our souls, I will get my legs twisted again, but I will not be so hard on myself and I will come back to my intention.
by J.G. McGlothern