Up late. Again.
Here I am at the eleventh hour,
writing a piece about peace.
(How do I always let deadlines creep up on me?)
As I quickly scroll through scripture and gloss over words,
I take note that – for now – my house is extraordinarily peaceful.
The children have long since drifted off.
Marshall retreated to bed moments ago.
And after sitting stagnant for quite sometime, I have finally hit my stride.
I’m finally on a roll!
A passage spurs a thought.
One thought spurs more.
And we’re off to the races!
And then I hear her begin to whimper –
My little miss who decided that two naps was one too many and was therefore miserable for half the day.
A whimper quickly rumbles into a cry and then and out-right scream.
Just let me finish writing this!
I’m almost done.
(At least I would be if I could have a little peace and quiet!)
I curse him under my breathe.
(Although there’s no one here to hear it, so why do I bother whispering.)
He can hear her. I know he can!
I try to press on, but those perfect little thoughts begin to evaporate right in front of my eyes.
I grasp at what is still there and jot down broken pieces of thoughts, hoping that I will be able to salvage them.
(But knowing that I won’t.)
I finally give in and stomp to her room.
I hope to goodness he hears me and my overly dramatic sighs.
(But he won’t.)
And, yes, I know how silly it all is.
I am aware of the aburdity in my mind.
And most times I would just laugh it off.
Tonight I am tired.
Tonight I am overwhelmed.
Tonight I am ugh. Just ugh.
I am out of sorts and not quite myself.
I am am give slap out.
I am frustrated with her.
I am frustrated with him.
But mostly, I am frustrated with me.
Why can’t I sit in this moment and just surround myself with the good?
With the warmth of the babe in my arms and get lost in the big, dark eyes looking up at me?
I want to.
But something’s in the way.
And I close my eyes and listen to the short and shallow sound of her breath, in and out. in and out. in and out.
And I drink in each gulp.gulp.gulp. and she drains her bottle.
And I take a big, deep breath
And there it is again:
no time to grab the camera
no time to write it down
just time enough to breathe it in and linger…
Without a word, I hold her and I rock her.
And I match my breath with hers.
And we look at each other.
I kiss her perfectly puckered lips.
And with the weight of her body against my chest,
I realize that without ever feeling the weight of the world on our shoulders, we could never understand freedom.
Without moments of chaos, exhaustion, and frustration, we could never appreciate peace.
Without bad moments, we would never be able to really comprehend the good.
And there, ladies and gentlemen, is my piece, my article, my post.
You know the one I was working on so fervently and then got side-tracked?
Yeah…this is better than what I was going to say anyway.
Thanks be to God.