Peace Be Still
A reflection on God's goodness and faith
I’ve sat down nearly three or four times recently trying to put my thoughts to the page and every time I have come up desperately empty, words feeling forced or ill fit. So I think I am just going to write and see where it leads me.
Recently, I feel like a bubbling brook. Each swell a spill of happiness. I have been blessed in conversations and situations recently in which I feel a sense of transcendent peace and joy. My wrestling heart has stilled.
A few weeks ago, I wrote this article:
It detailed the agonizing I had done of late. The disobedience I had realized I was pursuing and the heartbreak and wrestle I was doing with the Lord. I felt like doubting Peter sinking in the waves before even making the first step off the boat. My mind was a true tornado of thoughts, and I found myself wordless when people asked how I was, what the Lord was teaching me, and where I was in my faith. As a person who sometimes is at fault for talking more than I listen and someone who pretty much always openly answers any deep or personal questions, being wordless was a strange experience. I felt like a rug had been pulled out from beneath my feet and I had landed on my back breathless and gasping.
I was gasping and grasping for any thoughts to feed someone from the tumultuous void of my mind. It was a strange feeling. The feeling of uncertainty. I realized that while I have at many times felt uncertain in my life, this was the first time I have truly ever been.
Sure I have questioned things around me and wondered about different paths. But that uncertainty has never extended into the inward most parts of my being and into and throughout my conversations.
I remember new people I’ve met recently and feeling like there was this unspoken wall between us. My soul had gone mute. My personality on standby. Everything was eerily still.
And then, slowly but surely some raw conversations of vulnerability that I feared as much as I deeply desired took place. Each conversation was like a millstone coming loose from my neck and making my every step lighter, gentler, and all the more buoyant.
My friends have always described me as bubbly. In fact, a girl in my sorority who I briefly met recently said, after 5 minutes of talking to me, (and I quote) “I feel like you must pee bubbles or something. Or like glitter.” First of all, this gave me a much needed laugh. Secondly, I’m pretty sure 99% of my friends would agree.
So when my bubbles popped and I felt like I had truly hit the ground for the first time, it was unnerving. I’m not used to playing tug of war with God.
But friends, I can’t even begin to describe the depths of love the Father has poured out to me. His tugs were not hard, but ever so gentle, leading me back to Him.
I recently heard a story about a Catholic retreat where the participants were asked to do a “faith” walk. Eyes tightly closed, they had to rely on the people holding their hands to guide their feet forward and stop them from tumbling. It took deep trust in the guider for the walk to go smoothly. As I listened, all I could think was how much of a fool I had made myself purposefully pulling from the Father’s guiding hand. He wants the best for me. He always has and will. It is not the best of the world. It is a supernatural best. One that exceeds what I can imagine, one that He knows even when I cannot see the path ahead.
I have finally relinquished myself into His faithful hands and I cannot explain the freedom.
I surprised myself when, standing in a coffee shop with my best friend J this weekend after Mass, a friend I hadn’t seen in a while asked me what church it was I went to again. “Oh, I’ve actually been going to a Catholic Church recently,” I stated with a genuine smile, “I’m converting.”
There was no hesitation. No parsed words or hidden meanings. Just truth and honesty.
Ever so slowly, each week I have found someone to tell about the blossoming of my heart in faith. Every time, I feel lighter like a weight is off my shoulder’s, even with those who don’t react the most positively.
I’m stepping back into honesty and vulnerability and for my soul it is a healing balm. I can’t even begin to imagine a conversation with myself only a few months ago, a delicate slightly wilting flower. My expectations were so low for people’s kindness and understanding. My general expectations were pure hatred and judgement. And while surely a bit of judgement has floated my way it’s as easy as flicking a bug to the pavement and squishing it with a shoe. My repellant is the truth inside of me that murmurs in awe at the Eucharist, bows its head in reverence, and overflows into joy when I speak.
“Peace be still!” So the waters of my heart have become.
