What does your picture of peace look like??
The Picture of Peace
There once was a King who offered a prize to the artist who would paint
the best picture of peace. Many artists tried. The King looked at all
the pictures, but there were only
two he really liked and he had to choose between them.
One picture was of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror for
peaceful towering mountains were all around it. Overhead was a blue sky
with fluffy white clouds. All who
saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace.
The other picture had mountains too. But these were rugged and bare.
Above was an angry sky from which rain fell, in which lightening played.
Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall. This did not
look peaceful at all.
But when the King looked, he saw behind the waterfall a tiny bush
growing in a crack in the rock.
In the bush a mother bird had built her nest. There, in the midst of
the rush of angry water, sat the mother bird on her nest… perfect
Which picture do you think won the prize?
The King chose the second picture.
Do you know why?
“Because,” explained the King, “peace does not mean to be in a place
where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. Peace means to be in
the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is
the real meaning of peace.
As I sit here listening to the news and writing this, I hear a story of mother who dropped her children off a bridge. That brings to mind other horrific stories that riddle the newscasts with what “parents” (or can you even call them that) do to their children.
So, as it sit here and try to formulate what my picture of peace looks like, it I think of my children. Not my 11-year-old who just grumbled sleepily as I told her to turn off her TV, or my 2-year-old little boy who is fast asleep in the room next to me, but my “wild” children of just a few hours ago. The one’s who were running through the house screaming, shouting and laughing to the top of their lungs — and to say the least, DRIVING ME CRAZY.
I stood there, cooking dinner with my little one hanging from one leg and the other talking my ear off. At that moment in time, I could not wait for them to go to bed. But now I think, that is my picture of peace — two happy children far, far away from the harms that other children suffer. Two children loud and boisterous, not minding a word I say and contributing to the dirty carpets and mounds of dirty clothes piled on the laundry room floor. Yea, that’s it .. my picture of peace. My heart aches for those children who don’t have such a “peaceful” place and even more, I hurt for their parents who don’t see what they have.
Whew … I’m a little mushy tonight.
Here’s a little glimpse of my peace. Everyone sleep tight.