Looking for Peace in All the Wrong Places

Since Thanksgiving, I have been severely lacking in peace. I've spent a lot of hours trying to peg the source of my troubles. I mean, there have been plenty of stressers in my life lately: Clare's bout with the terrible twos. Residency (always). Night float. Teething. Seasonal busyness. Lack of sleep. Lack of downtime. Holiday plans. Not being around family for Christmas. Being far from home generally. Dealing with my grandma's recent hospitalization (and, so far, recovery).

I have not been at my best. Far from it.

My heart has ached. I've spent too much time on Facebook. I've tried keeping my phone in the other room. I've turned on the TV. I've turned off the TV. I've talked about it. I've thought about it. I've cried about it. Just today I've started no fewer than four different blog posts.

Know what I haven't done? Pray.

Oh sure, I've prayed for patience in dealing with Clare. I've prayed for my grandma's recovery. I've prayed for the kids to get a good night sleep and for Charles to have a good shift at the hospital. Know who I haven't prayed for? Myself. Know what I haven't asked for? Peace. I've not sat in silence. I've not sought God as the way to heal me. I've not asked him to lighten my load.

No wonder I've felt restless.

Touche.

Today, as I write, it's snowing. Earlier big, fat, quarter-sized snowflakes were falling. The biggest I have ever seen. It was beautiful. Magical.

All evening, I tried to capture it on film via digital image. I was desperate to share the beauty with Charles and people in Arizona. I got pictures of Clare running out to experience it in all of her exuberance for snow. (She insisted on bundling up and running around outside as soon as it started to fall!)

Doing a twirl in the snow!

I got pictures of snow slowly covering the ground, but I couldn't capture the magic.

Seriously, each little "pile" is really only one flake.

I gave up. Then, seemingly suddenly, it was dark, and I was going to try again. I looked out -- Christmas lights glowing in the background. Saint Lucia candles flickering in the foreground. And, as I have so many times before, I saw God in the light.

I didn't just see light. I saw The Light. I felt excited by the promise of Jesus, coming in just a week to lighten the darkness. That is what I need. I need to allow Jesus to be my light, to share my burden, and guide my path. That is Advent -- waiting on the coming of our Savior, and doing it with joyful hope.

O Come, Radiant Dawn. O Come, Emmanuel.