FMF: Peace

The world feels more broken than normal. These words sit deep in my heart as I push through the mundane acts of everyday life. Pour another cup and peer out the window into the breaking dawn of morning. 

There is war on the horizon and memories of what has passed settle into my stomach like a stone. Peace seems tenuous on the lines of boarders between lands and on the fringes of my heart. 

Weeks ago a friend pressed the word sanctuary into my palm and I envisioned a cave, a shelter from the battle. “You are safe” became a mantra repeated in my mind, but safety felt just out of reach. So this morning as I wrestled with the events of recent days and I prayed for guidance, the word sorrow whispered from my lips and the Spirit pressed in: 

 Sanctuary. Where sorrow is met. 

When the battle has raged and we are weary from the fight, sanctuary meets us with a welcome reprieve, but it is there where sorrow can finally be laid open. Where all that we carry can be spread out on the linens of a burial shroud, to be gently folded in and anointed with sacred words and spices. This is where the burdens are seen, the wounds tended to, the warrior lays down the sword. 

Refuge. A safe space. Where healing begins the slow and steady process. 

Sanctuary. You are safe. 

Shalom. Shalom. 

Peace be still.