I’d Like Some Peace, Please!

I just wanted to spend a few minutes reading, but how could I? Every time I began, one of my children would interrupt me with a need: get drinks, pick Play-Doh out of the carpet, find a lost doll, scold misbehavior.

I think I read the same paragraph five times. I finally wanted to scream, “I just need to get away!”

Thankfully, I had a friend who once told me, “Anytime you need some time to yourself, just let me know. I’ll watch your kids.” I picked up the phone and dialed her number with desperate, trembling fingers. Please be home!

Freedom

She was, and she was willing. I impatiently herded my children to the car and grabbed my book. I dropped off the kids and decided to go to my favorite coffee shop, indulge in a specialty drink and read. Soon, I was there sitting in a large comfy chair. I took a sip of my coffee, opened my book and read that familiar paragraph again. Then I read the next one and the next.

I read for several minutes, but something strange happened. I couldn’t concentrate. Knots of anxiety and anger twisted my stomach. Maybe I just need to focus on relaxing. I took a deep breath and rubbed the back of my neck. Concentrate, I told myself. But again, after a few more paragraphs, I found my mind rudely invaded by thoughts such as There’s so much laundry to do! Or, I hope Gracie doesn’t wet her pants.

The more I tried to stave off the bothersome concerns, the less I enjoyed my freedom. By the time I got back home, I found myself just as frustrated as before — and now I had used up my free baby sitter! What’s wrong with me? I wondered hopelessly. Maybe I’ll be cranky forever! I began to feel sorry for my children.

The feeling grew. If I didn’t even know what was right for me, how could I know what was right for my kids? And I was all they had! Poor children! Why did God give them a mother like me?

And then I did something I hadn’t done all day: I prayed. God, I know You love my children, but why don’t they have a father? Why do they only have me? Why don’t I have the patience to handle this? The angry questions tumbled out with tears.

I don’t know how long I prayed, but after awhile I found my questions and demands changing perspective. Lord, please help me to be a better mother. Please give me the peace that You promise. Please give me the patience to deal with their needs. Please, I need You.

True peace

Suddenly the peace that had eluded me all day long was there. My soul — empty and weak and shriveled with thirst — felt full. God heard me. Maybe He just wanted to show me peace couldn’t be ordered at a coffee shop or found in a book. Maybe He wanted to show me true peace can only be found through conversation with Him, and I didn’t have to find a baby sitter or get away in order to reach Him. From that point I knew He would be there for me, listening to my cry and offering to carry my load of frustration.

The next time I had the opportunity to get away, I still jumped at the chance. But this time, after having allowed God to shoulder my frustration, I wasn’t quite so desperate and wound up. And when I sat down with a steaming cup of Chai and a magazine, I first said a little thank you to the Lord. Then I sipped my tea, opened my magazine and enjoyed every peaceful minute.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is . . . peace.”
(Galatians 5:22)