Week Two, Day One Peace

I invite you into the prayer practice of Visio Divina not with your eyes, but with your breath.

Breathe in to the count of three...exhale to the count of six or seven.

Breathe in the One who colors creation with every crayon in the box…exhale those words that say there is only gray.

Breathe in the way a bright pink and subtle gold might hold hands...breathe out the many tasks that can keep us constantly racing around, making the world a blur.

Look at the image and let your eyes stay with the very first thing that you see. Keep your attention on that one part of the image that first catches your eye. Try to keep your eyes from wandering to other parts of the picture. Breathe deeply and let yourself gaze for a minute or so. 

Now, let your eyes look at the whole image. Take your time and notice every part of the photograph. See it all. Make a list of what you see and ask yourself the deeper question of, why?  You may want to close your eyes to recall a sunset you once watched.  Where were you? What did you feel, hear, and even smell in the air around you?  Reflect on the image for a minute or so.

Consider the following questions:

What emotions does this image evoke in you?

What does the image stir up in you, bring forth in you?

Does this image lead you into an attitude of prayer? If so, let these prayers take form in you. Write them down if you desire.

Reflection

Honestly, it had not been a good day.

First, adulting is hard.

Second, relationships can cause you to soar with eagles and immediately toss, throw, and plunge you into the mucky mud with the pigs.

Third, sometimes we call such a truth, "Wednesday".

So, on one of those days, when the life we try to craft and create ends up looking like that lump of uncooperative clay you tried to mold in third grade.  When our best selves have said, "I am outta here" and take an extended vacation.  When the vein in your neck starts to pulse quickly and your eye twitches.  You know that kind of day.

You can either:

A).  Yell, stomp your foot, pound the counter with a clinched fist, curse and cry out, "It's not fair".

B).  Go to the beach and watch the sunset.

And sometimes…

C).  Both

Sitting there in the soft and cool sand of Siesta Beach, we watched the sun slowly sink into the water.  We felt the breeze baptizing our skin.  We tasted the salty air kissing our lips. There was alongside the stress and struggle of that day a peace.

This wasn't a multiple-choice moment where life had to be either hard/harsh OR kum-ba-yah.  It wasn't that one replaced the other.  Just both sitting side-by-side as we sat side-by-side on a towel.

Peace...like hope...won't always come in ways we can recognize.

Peace...like hope...won't conform to our timetables.

Peace...like hope...may stay for a visit of a few minutes or days or even weeks.

Peace comes in the midst of chaos, that was true on the first Christmas and is still a truth we struggle to stay open to this year at Christmas.  Peace when the world was in a tizzy over Caesar's census.  Peace amid the chaos of crowds.  Peace when everything else in life was anything but peaceful.  Suddenly, I wonder if Mary and Joseph might have felt deep in the marrow of their bones both the stress of the journey and the peace of God’s presence.

Sometimes when life is hard, and you are not sure you have the strength, you can go searching for peace and find it just a few miles and minutes away.

May that promise of peace be re-discovered in your life as you encounter traces of God's grace and peace as we continue to focus and frame our lives on God's presence around us this Advent.

Blessings ~~