Vitamin Peace

It's amazing, the lengths to which we go to attain peace. Meditation, running, prayer, banging one's head against one's bedroom wall. All forms of the age-old struggle for serenity.

My friend Julie has found comfort in mindfulness, in naming emotions as they surface and letting them be 'tiny thoughts' that don't rule her. She has also found comfort in art. I visited her work in a local gallery last week, and saw in the soft sheen of her canvasses a reflection of a heart deeply fulfilled by each piece's formation. The paintings, each one, provided windows into the most beautiful part of Julie's soul, and I left feeling as though we'd just shared a deep, unfiltered chat. I left feeling renewed.

My friend Joie, on the other hand, seems to pursue peace through activities of a different sort. She actually enjoys her morning runs and even brings along her black Lab, Sophie, for good measure. Her home is the scene of so much life, so much free exploration, it practically pulsates with explosive energy from within. (Maybe the multiple toddlers she cares for have something to do with that.) From making umpteen-hundered quarts of applesauce while packing for a camping trip to starting her own worm farm as a side business, Joie finds peace in what many would consider the most exhausting lifestyle on earth. But her eyes always sparkle and her step always bounces the most when she's in the midst of her wild activities - so I know she's found what brings her heart rest.

And my friend Audrey: Now she's a rare bird, and a fine one. We're just getting acquainted in that slow, awkward shuffle called "Our Children Really Want to be Friends" - but it appears to me that her peace finds a home in anything feathered or furry. Her pursuits involve leading an entire 4-H club, feeding and housing multiple breeds of chickens, ducks, geese, pigeons, and turkeys, and attending bird shows on the weekend. For some people, that much exposure to all things with wings would start the sanity siren wailing. But Audrey's whole demeanor exuded silent joy when I met her at a recent 4-H event, "They're doing so well," she said of her twenty-some members and their various living entries. "It's been a really great experience for everyone. I'm so pleased."

I'm so pleased.

This same phrase could have been spoken by Joie, Julie, my beautiful cello-playing friend Sally, or me, while I type quietly at this computer. Isn't pleasure truly the culmination of all our peace pursuits? Maybe it's not so much escaping the Crazy we live with, but finding the Amaze-y that helps us really live. Pleasure and peace often walk hand in hand, after all. This is why we turn to certain things on repeat - things as unique as the texture of our hair or the flecks of color in our laughing eyes.

I love it! Our inner selves scream as we skydive, prune trees, or do math. This is what I was made for! 

I think finding that peace - that slice of pure pleasure - does speak to our ultimate intention. For in creating, singing, running, or writing, we enter into the part of the heart of our God that He's reserved especially for us. He designed us to experience these joys so deeply because He is the source of all pleasure. And when we keep that pleasure channel open by returning to it again and again, we are keeping our hearts soft toward Him - even if we don't know it yet.

Our pursuit of peace. Our passion for pleasure. They take us directly to the presence of the Giver who designed all these good gifts to point us back to His love. And when we find it, we hear from Him the words we've spoken for so long, while we sought Him.

I'm so pleased.

Vitamin Lead

Today we celebrated my daughter's first year in "real" school with a May Tea, an extravagant pink affair complete with genuinely caffeinated tea and fresh lemon curd. The efforts of many families combined to transform a side room of the gym into an awe-worthy setting:  Flowers,and gold tea spoons bestowed grace on ordinary folding tables, china teacups lent solemnity to the guests.

Oh, the beautiful guests. Finery from rumpled plaid shirts and brightly-colored ties to gauzy dresses and straw hats for the girls painted the children in a picture of propriety all afternoon. They sat (or slouched) on their folding metal chairs, they stood on a short riser and recited their year's worth of poems and songs, and they fit the part of tea guests to a ... tea.

Not to be outdone, the parents donned their best threads as well. I, for example, spent much of this happy event oogling my husband in his fifteen-year-old suit jacket and tie, lovingly purchased together as newlyweds for his college graduation. It looked as sharp today as it did when we selected it -- probably because he wears it so rarely.

I think my husband enjoyed the view as well. I purchased my first pair of dangly earrings for the big day, found a new sweater to brighten the dress my daughter suggested, and wore my silver high heels. I'm still enjoying the outfit even now - loathe to bring a close to the personal sonata my earrings provide. Even Grandma joined in, hobnobbing with the rest of us as though there was nowhere in the world she'd rather be.

And why not? Would any of us have preferred to miss out? The hassle, the hard chairs, the unfamiliar, texture of our first bite of real crumpet .. even the discomfort of conversing with the total stranger who's passing the cream ... these things are a particularly delicious pleasure when experienced at the request of a child. Wear a suit, Dad? Why not! Sew a flower on my tea hat, Mom? Sure thing. A thousand tiny adventures, many into neglected or uncharted waters, all for the sake of one girl? But of course! It's a sweet price, gladly paid, for her happiness - a little paradise purchased by love.

There's another Paradise I'm thinking of, now. Another set of adventures, another unprecedented feast. And this Paradise, too, features youth, "A little child," the prospective guests are promised through prophecy, "will lead them."

Isn't it fitting? Isn't it right? Who better than a child - any child, or perhaps the Child - to lead us into delights beyond the scope of our brittle adult imaginations? I look forward to that future feast with joy, letting the anticipation deepen my delight in all the little foretastes this sweet present life provides.

"Except you become as little children, you shall not enter the kingdom of God."