Somehow my generation grew up believing in happily ever after. Blame it on Disney, fairy tales, or the middle class prosperity that became the norm while we were growing up. Blame it on our childhoods that were simple and carefree. Blame it on our blissful ignorance of what was going on around us.
Notice how I used the word “we.” I should have said “I” because using “we” assumes everyone around me experienced the same things. It assumes everyone had loving parents, plenty to eat, clothes to wear, and mostly good experiences.
I now know that wasn’t the case.
As I got older, I became aware of the hardships surrounding me and endured a few hardships of my own. I no longer believed in a “happily ever after” life. Instead, I focused on the “but blessed” life.
I think that term applies to most of us, and I use it quite a bit. I think about my busy but blessed life while raising children. I think of the bereaved but blessed life when grieving the loss of beloved family and friends. And, being me, I think of the boring but blessed life I am now living.
No, I don’t love retirement. I’m odd. But neither do I want to be in the workplace surrounded by younger generations whose interests are not mine and whose views on life are very different.
I’m surrounded by people living the bereaved but blessed life. They have plenty to eat, nice homes, nice clothes, and material goods. But they’re grieving the loss of a child or grandchild or spouse. Some are grieving more than one. “You never get over grief,” my friend who lost a grandchild told me. “You just learn to live with it.”
My prayer list for those battling serious illnesses like cancer seems to grow each day. That, I know, is due to the age I am now. My closest friends and I are in the winter season of life. Attending funerals, visiting hospitals, and sending “thinking of you” cards are part of our normal activities.
When I pray for those going through hard times, I have one constant for each. I pray for healing and emotional and physical strength to endure whatever they are going through, sure, but I also pray for them to have peace in their souls.
What does that mean exactly? Am I praying for them to accept? Am I praying for them to have hope? Am I praying for them to have faith?
Maybe. But I think it is more of a feeling of calm.
Yesterday, our preacher had an excellent sermon about worry, and the take-away is that we worry about what we can’t control more than anything else. What good does it do? Does it change anything if we can’t control it? Of course not. His point was to do what we can about things we can control, then pray and trust God. God’s answer may not be the one we want, but we can find peace by trusting that He knows better than we do.
Since vision loss, the Serenity Prayer has become almost a daily prayer for me, sometimes multiple times a day. I’ve probably blogged about it before. I know I wrote about it in my latest book. In case you’ve forgotten, my version goes like this: God, grant me the serenity to accept what I can’t change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Acceptance, Courage. Wisdom.
Finding peace is not easy. And finding peace doesn’t mean every day will be one of calm. It does require conscious effort. It requires a willingness to let go of whatever is troubling you, an effort to stop trying to control everything in your life.
At least, that is how it has worked for me.
The busyness of my days of work and raising children didn’t leave time for focusing on peace. Instead, the activities and needs of others filled every waking minute, and I can remember dreaming about our family of four escaping to a cabin in the mountains and just…well, being. I had a need for peaceful moments.
The busyness is gone, and now depression or, boredom, and/or worry fight to rob me of that peace. How do I overcome those feelings and find the calm I crave? Physical activity, like going for a long walk or going to the wellness center, is a must. It releases those feel-good hormones. I pray. Sometimes I pray while I’m walking my dog. I look for constructive things to do. I call shut-ins or send cards. I do whatever I can to take the focus off whatever is bothering me and put the focus on someone or something else.
It works for me. The point? It’s a conscious effort. It doesn’t just happen.
This photo is of an acrylic painting I did about five years ago. Ruth, the artist neighbor who has painting classes in the studio behind her house, helped me by painting the small sailboat you see in the image. I was “channeling my inner Picasso” with what I considered an abstract painting of something, but what she saw was the night sky above a calm ocean. Since any attempt at painting a boat would have looked like a blob if I had done it, she painted it for me.
I love the final effect. It’s a scene of tranquility and rest.
May each of you find your own moments of peace as you go through whatever storms life is giving you. May we all learn to let go of worry and find joy in the good things that are a part of our lives. And may our communities, our country, and our world come to know peace.
