Perfect Peace

After finally getting my air conditioning fixed this week, my washing machine broke today.

It’s not a huge deal.  A first world problem, really.

But coupled with the seven hundred things I need to do before the end of the school year and two looming court dates it had me flustered.  Annoyed.

My babies don’t relax much.

From the moment their feet hit the floor in the morning, they are busy.

Even as an infant, Little One was never much for snuggling—preferring to be held out facing the world than in facing me.

And so it took me off guard a little.

Stirring from an afternoon nap, Little One calls for me.

Held in my arms, he is still. Quiet.

Not in a rush to be off to the next thing.

In this moment, just perfectly content and relaxed.

I feel his complete trust in me.  His absolute confidence that he is safe here.  In my arms.

In this moment, I am grateful for the weight of parenthood.

And the even greater weight of foster care.

And in this moment I know what it means–

Perfect peace.

You keep in perfect peace the one whose mind is stayed on you because they trust in you.

(Isaiah 26:3)

Isaiah sees God as a strong city, fortified against its enemies.

A rock.

I see him here.  As a worn brown couch, a well-loved crocheted blanket, a safe embrace and a moment of still.

My washing machine is still broken.

I still have seven hundred things to do in the next week.

And also I have a rock.  A strong city.

A safe embrace where I can relax for a moment and know perfect peace.

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