Evening Contentment:Thursday's Reflection

You know the feeling. The feeling of utter peace and contentment. 

Wind chimes in our Backyard

It's not that everything is right in the world--the BIG world or even your own personal world. We each have our list of worries and concerns, major and minor, but for a moment peace and contentment washes over like shallow creek water over rocks. 

That's how I felt Sunday night when my book and I crawled into bed. 

Bruce was already asleep next to me. He was tired, but happy, from attending his 50th high school reunion in Rochester. Ralph, our grand-dog, who is spending the week with us while his family is on vacation, was snoring steadily on the floor next to the bed. I reminded myself to be mindful of his presence when I got up in the middle of the night. 

The windows were open, thanks to lower temperatures. The curtains lifted and swayed in a breeze one degree above gentle. Oh, how loving that breeze felt as it grazed my body. The touch of angel wings. 

I closed my eyes, lightly, not tightly, and listened to the outside chorus--cicadas, crickets, and wind chimes--not your normal orchestra, but in harmony with each other. No siren dissonance.

I had spent much of the afternoon in the kitchen fixing dinner for my father --my mother's meatloaf, roasted potatoes, corn and peach and mint salad, and apple pie--which we took to him in the evening to celebrate his 93rd birthday. While chopping,  measuring and mixing, I listened to my Indigo Girls station on Pandora, even singing with them occasionally. Those sounds continued to dance within me, as did the events of the previous days.

A Madison friend visited this weekend, and we filled the days with wide and deep conversation, good food, and even some St Paul exploration, touring one of the historic homes and then taking a guided walking tour on St Paul's most memorable street, Summit Avenue. Good times, and I felt more connected not only to her, but also to our years in Madison. 

I knew I should turn off the light, for the week ahead would be full, but for the moment I didn't allow the lists, the schedule to come to bed with me. Instead, I returned to the book I am currently reading, The Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks, which much to my surprise I am enjoying, in spite of it being about the Plague in England in the 1660's. A good book always adds to a feeling of peace and contentment. 

And when I needed to reread sentences more than once, I knew it was time to turn off the light and say my last prayers of the day and rest in peace and contentment. 

                      Dusk slips its easy cover over the day
                      And quietly invites life to slow down.
                      Darkness slowly gathers the sunlight
                      And tucks it away smoothly until dawn.
                      Birds bend their heads under soft wings
                      And day's bright energy bows to stillness.
                      Such is your gentle approach with us.
                      At certain times you move us into quiet
                      That includes darkness in place of light.
                       Let us not fear when the night comes upon us.
                                                 Joyce Rupp
                                                 Fragments of Your Ancient Name 

An Invitation
What are some moments when you have experienced total peace and contentment? I would love to know. 

Peace Talks: Thursday's Reflection

I woke full of memories of a long weekend in Chicago with our daughter and grands. Our family tradition is to celebrate 8th birthdays with a trip to Chicago. We had walked miles through the Shedd Aquarium, the Museum of Science and Industry, and the Field Museum. We had the traditional massive sundae at Ghiradelli's and the beyond delicious pizza at Gino's. 

Peter, our new 8 year old, had pronounced it all "amazing."  

I woke eager for the day. In the morning I would facilitate my monthly contemplative writing and spiritual direction group at church. In the afternoon my writing group would gather in our living room as we do every other week. I had a new chapter to share with the group, and I was eager for their inspiration and insights, but also to hear their current work. 

And then, as I drove to church, I heard the news. The news about Brussels. More bombs. More violence. More deaths. More injuries. More uncertainty. More discord. More fear. 

What I needed more of was peace. 

           I do not want the peace which passeth understanding.
           I want the understanding which bringeth peace.
                                          Helen Keller

I decided I could continue to hold within the delight I felt about our recent happy family times and the pleasure and awe I feel when I am in the presence of those seeking deeper connections with God and with each other. At the same time I could feel deep sadness about the gap in the world --the gap between peaceful understanding and such limited hate-filled views of living and being in the world. 

This morning I sat with these words by Julia Cameron in her book, Blessings, Prayers and Declarations for a Heartful Life. 

                  Distance and diversity are part of me. I bless
                  my width and depth. All that is foreign and
                  unfamiliar is yet part of who I am. Mine is the
                  family of man. My tribe inhabits the earth, 
                  walking in different lands, speaking in 
                  different tongues but living one life as we go
                  forward. Knowing that I am a part of all life,
                  I cherish differences. I embrace diversity. 
                  Recognizing that all faces and forms are my own
                  face and form, I treat myself and others with
                  dignity. We are brothers. We are sisters. We are
                  husband and wife, mother and father. We are a 
                  family of many colors and many cloaks. We are
                  one life. The language of the heart speaks to us
                  all. I cherish that which my brother cherishes. I
                  walk in harmony, generosity, and abundance.
                   I share my gifts from the gifts I share. p. 21-22

I read these words aloud. More than once. I invite you to do the same. Let's read them together. 

An Invitation
How do you respond when peace seems invisible? I would love to know. 

NOTE: In November I wrote my response to the bombings in Paris here.