Peace.
What is peace? A wildly unattainable creature? Slippery as an eel, that you must chase if you ever have hope of acquiring it? A warm blanket that settles over a person, comfortable and safe? Is it quiet? Is it loud? Is it certain or questioning?
Peace.
It's confusing.
Some of you may remember many years ago (help I'm getting old) when I left the Bible school I'd attended for so long. I had been there and had hated it for the past 2.5 years. The first .5 years were okay. But I'd never left. Never even thought of it.
Then I reached my breaking point.
I was teetering on the edge of being a Christian and giving up. I was freshly out of an unhealthy relationship. And I felt...alone.
I desperately wanted to reach out to God, but I felt like he wasn't there, that he didn't care.
So many people. So many opinions.
I had recently been told that I should not celebrate Christmas, as a Christian, for a whole list of reasons. That I shouldn't celebrate Easter the way we do. That I shouldn't eat pork. That I should keep all of the laws of the Old Testament.
It pressed on me. Squeezing my soul. I felt trapped. Panicked. Like I wasn't good enough, all over again. Never good enough, not even for my creator.
I'd always craved the love of a father, yet I'd grown up without it. The only father I had as a child was God. And I was always scared that he would grow tired of me and leave me. Because that's what I've been to enough men in my life to make me afraid that's all I'd ever be.
And at that point. That turning point. The point of desperation.
I felt peace.
It was time to leave the Bible school.
I had the principal of the school tell me he wanted me to graduate from the right school. I said I would be. He told me that he and God were on the same page. In my mind, I questioned which book they were each reading.
Had I stayed at that school, I would not be a Christian today.
Because had I stayed at that school, I would never have met my pastor's son. I would have never gone to my church. I would have never been baptized. Even though he and I don't talk much now, he was an integral part of what brought me back to Jesus...and love.
Because I had peace about leaving.
Last year at my job (I am a paraprofessional I work with small children, and I adore them), the teacher I worked under and I had some personality clashes. We just...didn't get along well aside from being adults who put aside our not getting alongs to work with the kids.
I got so frustrated that I decided I would leave the district and children that I adored, because I didn't enjoy having personality clashes with people I'm supposed to get along with and work well with. So I decided I'd ask for a transfer at the end of the school year.
And we seemed to get along better. Things were...peaceful.
So I decided I wanted to stay.
And things got rough again.
So I decided to ask for a transfer.
And things were peaceful.
Whenever I determined to transfer to a different district...I felt peace.
Peace is...an indicator. It is an indicator of what is right and what you should do. When you feel peace, when things fall into place, then you are doing what you should be doing.
Likewise, about a year ago, I decided to move out (man have I got some updating to do on this blog!). And everything just...fell into place. In a more beautiful way than I could have ever imagined.
I love living on my own. I love having me and my cats all snuggly in a house that is probably a bit too large for us. I love having friends and family over for dinner. And I feel at peace in my home.
And now...I have more decisions on the horizon. Decisions I've mulled over and prayed over, and been wildly confused over. Things that have pecked at my brain, begging me to address them constantly.
So I decide.
Yes.
And the pecking stops.
So. Is that it then? Is my answer yes? And now everything else will fall into place?
I don't know.
But do you know what I feel?
Peace.
~Katie
