You might know how that goes - wanting to be alone and to be noticed & cared for all at once.
He walked over and answered my silent pleading. "How are you doing?" he asked. I was standing with my sister, and so I looked at her, wondering if she would answer first so I could dig for words. My heart was so raw, but looking ahead somehow, hopeful. I think I answered something akin to "so-so".
Then he asked us what he could pray for, for us.
"Peace," I answered.
It has been such a fleeting thing over the last eight months.
But I think I have just realized it.
I have been so awful to be around. I'm convinced I inheirited my dad's restless nature, and that thing - whatever it was - that made him on edge all the time, and hard on people. I get nasty if I am under stress, I get resentful if I feel under-appreciated. And wow, I blame other people for everything that goes wrong. It has been the root of dishonour and disunity in our home, in my relationship with my husband and our housemate. I have allowed things to get ugly.
One morning a few days ago, I read this:
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid." John 14:27
My heart softened as I was reading His words, His promise to me.
My peace I give to you.
I've allowed my heart to become troubled. But really, to be able to extend grace to those around me (which perhaps is a part of the issue here, I have forgotten how to give grace), I don't need anything more than what He has already promised and given. His peace.
His peace in the midst of chaos... dirty dishes, dirty floor, dirty bathroom, dirty laundry.
His peace despite the profound pain of never knowing why my dad did what he did.
His peace as a balm for my very broken heart.
And so, I ask for it again & again & again.
Will you join me?