Doodles for Peace

Finally, my brothers and sisters,

whatever is true, whatever is right, whatever is noble,

whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable --

whatever is is excellent or worthy of praise,

think on these things.

And the peace of God will be with you.

Philippians 4:8-9

I'd forgotten about the calming power of the pencil crayon doodle combo.  

We are colouring together, the children and I, a little bit after school, after all the homework is done.  Some are on the porch with a puzzle, and others are batting around the Canadian balloons we found in one of the bins.  But several of us have settled into a quiet way of being together, just doodling and colouring.

 

Just on my own, without any indication to the children whatsoever, I experimented with a word doodle connecting the letters with hearts by a series of parallel lines, some straight some wavy, and all for fun.  I'm not even paying that much attention, to be honest, until I glance over at Jua beside me and realize he is using my doodle as a pattern.  Tharit too.

But each with their own flair, their own chosen medium.  Because markers are cool too.

I say nothing, but realize that I am feeling inexplicably amused and pleased about this.  Can't help smiling on their interest and concentration and imitation.  We keep doodling, Jua and Tharit and I.  Across the table Beemai is creating something that will later demonstrate a big step in her own creative expression.  So much colour!

I am aware of the puzzle-makers' voices just outside, as they negotiate who is doing the edge pieces.  And of the dogs barking, and of the sounds of birds I couldn't name.  And the fan, because the room is warm, but not too much so.  All is quiet otherwise.  

I am fully in this moment.

Unexpectedly, I am singing a lullaby I sang over my own children and grandchildren. 

"Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine, 

I'll taste your strawberries and drink your sweet wine.  

A million tomorrows will all pass away, 

'ere I forget all the joy that is mine....

today."

(New Christy Minstrels, 1964)

I actually don't finish the song, because I choke up just a bit with emotion I didn't expect to be quite so close to the surface.  Because...how long has it been since my spirit rested in this much in-the-moment contentment?  And because...how true it is that strawberries and wine are sweet only in passing, and we absolutely must taste the goodness of the right-here-right-now any time it offers itself to us.

There is trouble all around the world today.  I know this because the internet reaches us even here.  But right now, right here, in this moment, all is well.  All is true and right and pure and noble and lovely and admirable, and excellent and praiseworthy.  And I choose to think on these things, and be in these things.

And the God of peace is with us.  I can smell it.

Mai Bpen Rai, Ka

There's a space here this morning for my soul to rest, 

even as restless events unfold half a planet away.

Mai bpen rai, ka.  Never mind.  It's all good.

Goodness in the midst of the not good.

  

Little Da gives the signal that it's all okay.

If you knew her story it would break your heart.  

Life has been so not okay. 

And yet here she is,

a box of Smarties in her other hand.

That's why, 

when I captured this sweet gesture from this sweet child,

I believed I was being reminded.   

The sun rises and there is still good work to do.

Let us not be distracted.

Or afraid.

God has not given us a spirit of fear;

but of power,

and of love,

and of a sound mind.

2 Timothy 1:7

 

Micah and Micro Peace

 

I can't find it online this morning without signing up for more than I want to, but last night Ken and I caught the Christmas episode of "This Hour Has 22 Minutes" (aired December 5th). We tune in from time to time, if for no other reason but to get a sense for the ridiculous side of Canadian news.

One song was a parody of (I think - open to being corrected here) "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas," but the words were "Have an Existential Crisis," referring to how easily the news around the world right now could easily make us 'spiral down', and rob us of any sense of personal peace.

They nailed it. Like I said, I can't find it on line at the moment, but the whole song was filled with everything antithetical to 'peace on earth', and was not too far off several conversations I've been having leading up to the holidays. Things are grim. It's hard to think about.

Some folks choose not to watch the news at all, or at least to limit their media exposure. I respect that. It is certainly a challenge to stay mentally and spiritual healthy in the midst of the onslaught.

"Peace on earth" (Luke 2:14) is indeed the message of Christmas. And yet. Where is it?

The prophet Micah gives us a glimpse of something that is on tap for 'the last days', a phrase which is a clue for us in terms of time lines and God's end game.

In chapter 4, following a series of images directly addressing national disputes and the violence of war, there's this statement that always grips my heart with longing.

"Everyone will sit under their own vine and under their own fig tree, and no one will make them afraid." (v4)

That part about the vine and the fig tree refer to ancient images of abundance and real estate. Food and housing, in other words.

But it's the part of no one being afraid that gets me.

Yes, it's overwhelming to realize that vulnerable people are living in terror right now, in deplorable conditions. Yes, we should pray for peace for them. This is clearly not God's heart for anyone, not when He continually describes peace as His final plan for humanity.

But that's all so big and overwhelming. Thinking about it too much could indeed send me into an existential crisis. If I stay out there in the realm beyond my own agency.

Except I think there's an alternative. It occurs to me that there are ways that we can help bring God's final plans into clearer focus right now. Help bring "Thy kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven' in micro ways over which we do indeed have some control.

What if we simply made it a priority to help make people feel safe in our presence? What if we could be, in some small way - some micro version of Micah - that vine or that fig tree where people could come and sit and not be afraid?

Not afraid of judgement.
Not afraid of betrayal.
Not afraid of being put down,
or dismissed,
or ignored.
Not afraid of having a confidence broken.
Not afraid of not being "enough,"
or of being "too much."
Not afraid of being hated for an opposing opinion.
Not afraid of being ridiculed for beliefs.
Not afraid of not measuring up.

Let's face it. All those fears can be activated at gatherings over the holidays, both with colleagues and with family.

What if we could actually be part of bringing peace on earth by being people that other people were not afraid to be with?

Wars don't start out of a vacuum.
There's a lot of fear that comes first.
Usually for a long, long time.
Fear that lead to hate that leads to war.

What if we could, in some micro way, push the wave back?
Safety that leads to love that leads to peace.

Just with the people God puts in our lives.
See where it goes from there.

Call me crazy,
but I think it couldn't hurt.