When The A Falls Right Out Of Your PEACE

She just wouldn’t stop.

You know, one of those days when the two-year-old replaces peaceful playing and a rejuvenating nap with endless shrieks and crazed tantrums.

Propped on my hip while the casserole cooked far too slowly, she twirled her hair, sucked her thumb and retained the death grip on my shoulder.  The one she’s held all. day. long.

That’s when we heard it.  The crash.

No one seemed to be phased.  Tinkerbell on TV offered much more intrigue and excitement than a jingling ruckus from the front room.

What in the world?

She and I – attached at the hip – shuffled around the corner to see.

There it was.  The perfectly placed PEACE… wrecked.  Silver jingle bells and all.

The A in our PEACE had just about enough for the day and decided to plummet straight down.  Right onto my keyboard.  This keyboard with the question mark already missing.  Who needs more questions, anyway?

The damage caught my eye immediately.  The perfectly smooth space bar now resembled a ski slope.  Eh, who needs space?  Ski slopes are so much cooler.

The V appeared to have taken a ding.  V.  What’s it for?  Vengeance, villains, vultures.  No thanks.  What about victory?  That one has already been written.

Very.  Nah, it’s overused anyway.

Further investigation showed a hit to the tab key.  Tab.  It’s really just a quick jump ahead.  There really are no quick jumps ahead.  It’s best to go one step at a time.  Don’t want to miss a thing.

So, there it was.  The A in our PEACE had fallen.

No more A game.  No more plan A.  Now what?

What if there is no plan B?

What if we put all our plans and hopes and dreams into one basket; and plan B never has a chance to form?

We’d better have a good plan A.

I held her on my hip.  Of course, the crashing jingle stopped her whining.  Wreckage always seems to entertain us.  We can’t seem to take our eyes off it.  But, then, we want to know what comes next.

Our PEACE was missing its A.

All we have left is PE  CE.

This picture of decoration perfection crashed and burned.  Leaving in its wake a hole.  No A.  Instead, an F.

And it stopped her crying.  And it stopped my fuming.

It crushed the keyboard and its unnecessary strokes; but, I can still type.  Ski slopes are cooler anyway.

PEACE.  When it’s the kind we strive for and insist on.  When it’s the kind we try to emulate from magazine shots and pinterest.  When it’s the kind that just sits on a shelf and sparkles pretty… but doesn’t really permeate our hearts.  What good is that kind of PEACE?

Perfection.  Expectations.  Anxiety.  Chaos.  Exhaustion.

It’s not the kind of PEACE we want.

PE.  Separated from the CE.

Perfection and Expectations – by our standards – are best far removed from the CE.

Christ and His promise of Eternity.

Christ.  Eternity.

She and I looked up at the dangling remnants of a mama’s plans gone wrong.  Yet, there was just something right.  

Her crying stopped and mama… laughed.

Maybe the best way to find our peace is by leaving our A’ss behind.  Anxiety, anger, arrogance, aggravation, agitation.

Maybe the missing A will leave some space… space to breathe.

Space to find the real peace… in the joy.

There are no A‘s in JOY.

Just. One. Yahweh.

May we all find PE CE this Christmas… without the A‘s.

 

Isaiah 9:6

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders.  And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.