A Symphony of Peace

How can there be a melody in life's sorrows?

By listening to the harmony of His love and goodness.

How can there be rest in the fret of tomorrow?

By knowing that even minor notes will bless.

It was the night of my twelve-year-old’s piano recital, and she still couldn't get through her piece without her fingers slipping.

"It's no use, Mom. I just can't get it right." Her face fell. 

Having a houseful of children, it's hard to focus on just one, but I knew this was a moment I couldn't let pass by. 

Amidst the happy cacophony of my two middle children, chasing around the Christmas tree, and baby pulling on my pant legs to be picked up, I felt a flood of compassion for my tween-aged girl.

"Even if you mess up horribly and don't get a single note right, I'll still love you."

You could see her shoulders relax; she tried one more time.

There were still a few missed notes here and there, but she wasn't fazed. She had tried her best and was ready to go.

Another day, another moment. My ten-aged daughter wants me to read to her but I've got a fussy baby needing a rocking and a nap.

I've already said to her twice maybe three times, "another time, dear one, Mommy's busy right now."

And, here she is again, asking for me, for my lap, for my love.

The moment is about to pass me by. I sense an urging to slow down.

Settling the baby in my lap and her big sister at my side, we explore the wonderful far off places we can visit in books.

Picture a house. Only this house is not only made of brick, stone, or wood, but of flesh and blood, sweat and tears. This is our house. Our house doesn't just need beds made and floors swept clean. It needs kind words, hugs and kisses, blessings, and prayers.

We, as mommies, get this inordinate affection for perfection of our home, when the home of our heart is anything but. Our restlessness is indicative of the state of our hearts.

Our bodies are the house and dwelling place of the Spirit of the living God, and when we open the windows of our eyes and look to God, the Father of lights, we too will be filled with His love and goodness.

If we would but make time each day to climb into our Father's lap and let Him read His Word to us, then our house and our heart will be a haven of peace for our children. 

By the mercy and grace of God manifested in our lives, we mothers can be the lap incarnate for our little ones to climb upon and rest.

And, then they would know the peace of Christ that surpasses understanding, and our faith would be actions not just spoken words.

“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)