It’s dark outside my window. And quiet. No wind, no sirens, no cars. Right in front, the street light shines soft through the last of the oak leaves and draws shadows on the branches; across the street, the Christmas lights on my neighbors’ houses shine through the stillness. Oh Holy Night.
We don’t have to wait for Christmas for a holy night. We can have it whenever we stop long enough to see and absorb the beauty around us every day or night. Something as simple as light and music.
Carols drift up the stairs from where Cliff is playing music in the living room. He’s built a fire. Our tree twinkles. Right here, right now, we are in a peaceful place.
I write these reflections to remind me and you that life can be simple if we choose wisely. I chose to schedule no more appointments until the second week of January. I need this time to quietly review my life, my growth, the ways in which I get too caught in the frenzy of the world.
We can all offer peace when we are at peace.
My peace I give to you; my peace I leave you.
Holy one, wherever we are right now, help us remember the gift of peace, and the gift of offering peace to one another. Help us find that sacred place within that no turmoil can pierce, no discord disturb. And help us remember our road can always lead to that sacred place, regardless of the world’s demands.