Tuesday, September 30, 2014

That easy, peaceful feeling

This golf course water hazard is our water feature.

My friend Ann and I walked up our old driveway.  So familiar and yet so different.  It had been over six years since we lived there but for over 30 years our life was tied up in that house.  We had loved, laughed, fretted, rejoiced, grieved and celebrated there over the years. We brought all our babies home to that house.

Now it belonged to someone else.  

We had planted beautiful flowering crabapple trees in that yard.  One to celebrate the births of each of our sons.  For many years, I had made crabapple jelly from the fruits of those trees.  Sweet, tart, ruby red jelly.  Yum.

And I had a hankering to do so again.  But first I wanted to ask permission.

Ann made the introduction as the tenant opened the door.  The woman, grabbed my hand, repeated my name, and thanked me.

She went on to explain that in the midst of her less than peaceful life, she felt such peace in that home.  She expressed that to a mutual friend (small town) who said that was no surprise because that house had been prayed over and prayed in.  Bible studies held there.  Bible instruction imparted to the children in that home.

It was so sweet to hear that.  That the home that we loved retained that feeling of home.  Of peace.

And yet, peace is not found, necessarily, in a place.  Peace is found in Christ alone.

We can sit on our back deck with a slightly obstructed view of the above pond and fountain ( I know, right?!) but our minds could be churning with anxiety and worry.  A beautiful place does not guarantee peace.  Only the Prince of Peace can provide that.

After two weeks and one day of living in this home, we will carry on the tradition started in our former home.  Tonight begins a Bible study here.  I look forward to laughter ringing in these newly painted walls, of prayers being offered and Scripture being pondered and discussed.

And later this week?  I look forward to making some crabapple jelly.  

Permission granted.

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