Christmas 2009 Letter - Peace

The writing of my annual Christmas letter this year presents both a challenge and an opportunity for me.  The challenge is that I don’t know where to begin.  

Oh, I could fill this page with all the usual bits of information…how everyone has grown a year older, moved up a grade in school and continues to be busy with this adventure we call life.  

I could tell about Emily’s burgeoning independence as she moves closer to getting her driver’s license when she turns 16 on December 20^th. 

I could talk about Christopher’s newfound social life now that he is 13 years old.  The fact that Nick is back in Antigua, Guatemala, studying Spanish, and that Paul continues to work crazy hours, traveling at least 50% of the time, often out of the country and seems to thrive on this high level of stress, might be interesting, as well.

But focusing on that just doesn’t feel right this year.  It’s not that there’s anything wrong with life moving forward, with our family continuing to grow up and out.  It’s just that this Christmas, what used to be so important now seems trivial.  You see, when Christopher had the opportunity to prepare and serve a meal at a local homeless shelter, the highlight for him was sitting with the folks who came in to eat.  Sharing a meal with those less fortunate than him really had an impact.  When Nick worked for World Vision in their micro finance organization, he spent three weeks in Mexico, and it was there that he met and spent time with people who have benefited from the loans; whose lives have been changed as a result of the generosity of others. Emily came back from her annual trip working in an orphanage in Mexico feeling unsettled.  She was glad to be home and had missed her family, but her heart was back in Mexico, with the ninõs who craved the time and love that she was able to share.

One year ago today, I was living my safe little life in my tiny little world.  I was fully complacent and quite content.  Oh, I thought my world was rather large; after all, I had moved 15 times, lived in 8 states, 13 cities, 3 apartments, 1 townhouse and 12 different homes.  I knew people all over the United States and even had a friend in France.  My husband and oldest son had traveled the world and my two younger children had been to Mexico and Peru.

Then I met Angela Mason from World Vision who invited me to travel with her in September to Bosnia.  Little did I know how very safe and tiny my world really was.  I was fully unaware of my complacency.  Well, perhaps I did know, but I was just so comfortable.  I was well into the rhythm of my life; I had been a wife for 26 years and a mother for more than 23 years.  Being a room parent, team mom and social coordinator for my family was second nature and I was quite capable of running our home while my husband traveled for work. 

I was independent, confident and content.  And I was fooling myself.  I had told myself that I cared about others because my family supported women and children in third-world countries, but I really was unaware of the suffering that was going on around the world. 

I knew that there were starving children, families living in poverty and women being abused.  But I didn’t know that during the war in Bosnia, hanging laundry out to dry was a life-threatening task because of the snipers who were hiding in the hills; watching and waiting for an opportunity to kill yet another woman, man or child.  It didn’t matter whom or why; it was done for sport and out of spite.  I didn’t know that there is a village in Bosnia called Djulici that is made up of 90% women because during the war, the Serbian army took all of the men away, massacred them and left them in mass graves.  But today, these women are entrepreneurs.  They have greenhouses filled with plants that they cultivate, cows and chickens that they tend. It is with the fruits of their labor that they have pulled their families out of poverty and are now financially independent. 

I didn’t know that when I returned home, I would think incessantly about the beautiful women I had met and spent time with.  Their stories were swirling around in my head and my heart ached for them.  I was so sad when I first returned and I became despondent.  I was challenged by a friend to start living again…to start living my life of normalcy that they so long for…to live my life “not in spite of those who I met but because of those who I met.”  Most of all, I didn’t know that meeting and spending time with these brave and resilient women would change my heart; would change my life. I didn’t know that it would open my eyes to a world of suffering; a world of women and children who lived through war, who continue to live among the ruins of that war yet hold so much hope and have become my inspiration.  The women from the village of Djulici told us that their hope for us is that we would never have to live through a war…that we would always know peace.  I am moved by the fact that they wish for us, that which they do not know.

My life is no longer so safe, tiny and predictable.  My world has grown and my heart has been broken.  I look at things differently; my perspective has changed.  I feel privileged to now count myself among those who “have seen.”  I can’t stop thinking about the women I met in Bosnia and I have a passion to do something about those who suffer.  I’m not sure what I am called to do, so for now I tell their stories to anyone who will listen.  I use my written word on this blog and I use my voice to speak; to move and inspire others to do something.  Perhaps this is what I am meant to do.  This is my opportunity.  I will keep listening.

I have found myself being quiet, both inside and out since returning from Bosnia.  I never fully understood the power of silence; of stillness.  It is in silence that we open our minds, our hearts and our souls to what it is that we are to hear.  I believe that God quietly spoke to me through the women and children I met in Bosnia.  His voice was still, soft and slow.  I think that’s how He usually works.  His voice is subtle; we hardly hear it and then all at once we realize that a change has transpired within us. 

So this year, as I ponder the Christmas season, the fact that Christ came to earth as a baby, quietly, on a silent night two thousand years ago, I think about all the suffering in the world.  I think of those who have known war and who struggle daily to find peace.  I am reminded of a passage in the Bible, which says, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16.33.  May your New Year be filled with places of quiet, silence, stillness and peace.

Be Silent...Be Still

Saturday, December 5, 2009
I spent the last 24 hours in silence.  Yes, me...silent for an extended period of time.  I was with 5 other women from my church at a retreat center on a beautifully wooded piece of property here in Northern California.  It was quite a moving experience.


I had previously done this only once and it was for a 6-hour time period.  It was May of 2009 and I didn't know what to expect.  If I am to be honest, the only reason I participated that time is because it took place in my home.  I was asked to host and the offer to participate was extended but not expected.  I thought it would look bad if I were to busy myself with my daily routine of life so I reluctantly agreed to join them.


I was nervous about the day, not about the hosting part but rather about the participation part.  I wasn't sure how I would be able to spend a full 6 hours praying and reading my Bible.  I had never done that before and it sounded rather intense.  My fears were quickly allayed when the leader of our group, Mae asked if she could borrow one of my light-reading novels, a Sophie Kinsella book, for the day.  "What?" I asked.  "You mean we don't have to pray and read the Bible the entire time?"  She then told me that the purpose of the period of silence was to feed our souls...to rejuvenate and refresh us.  We were encouraged to do whatever it is that feeds our souls and for each person, that thing looks different.  Well, to say that I was relieved was an understatement.
I had a great experience that day and I knew that I would want to do it again.


When this Silent Retreat was announced, I was interested but not compelled to participate.  It is, after all, December 5th, less than 3 weeks before Christmas and I have a million things to do during the next 20 days.  If only it would have been during a better time of year...one that is less busy...less stressful.  Wait a minute, perhaps that is precisely why Mae scheduled the Retreat for this time period.  Perhaps the thing I most need at this time of year is to take a break, to stop all the busyness and just be quiet.


As I left my home yesterday, I couldn't help but feel excited and relieved at the prospect of spending 24 hours in silence.  I was not reluctant to leave behind 125 Christmas cards, the "Laura's Christmas Peace 2009" CD playlist that I have been laboring over, the unending quest to find just the right 16th birthday gift for my daughter's upcoming birthday, the need to complete my Christmas gift shopping by the end of next week, the knowledge that my husband and children would be on their own today to buy and set up our Christmas tree, and the gnawing anticipation over the dinner party that we're hosting in our home on Monday night for my husband's 15 closest Investment Banker buddies.  Actually, I practically skipped out of the house!


As we entered into silence yesterday we were reminded of the following:

Don't work hard at being still.

You are not creating silence; you are meeting it.

Silence and quiet already exist; they are a part of God's nature.

You must learn to enter the silence that is.

And so it became silent in that space.  All of a sudden, we were acutely aware of all the sounds around us; the crackling fire, the ticking of the clock, the rustling wind outside.  It was beautiful and it was so very peaceful.  I actually found myself wishing that it hadn't begun so quickly because now the clock was counting down...counting down to the end of the silence.

My hours of quiet were spent reading and, of course, writing.  I wrote my annual Christmas letter and found that it came much more quickly than usual.  Perhaps that was due to the silence that surrounded me.  The peace.  The lack of interruptions.  No phones ringing, no e-mails to respond to, no facebook to check up on, no kids asking to be taken here and there.  All I had to do was to create...to look back over the year 2009 and remember...to document my families' activities, milestones and growth.  For the first time in my history of Christmas-letter-writing, I actually wrote more about my activities, milestones and growth than anyone else's.  I fully blame it on my travels to Bosnia!  And I'm honored to have had so much to share.

During my hours of reading, I became rather introspective, thinking about things such as self-denial and self-love; boundaries in my life; grief and what it is that I can learn through loss; emotions; and finally the dreams that I have for my life. I read, I thought, I wrote.  I could have continued for days, it was so powerful.  It seems as though I read and processed so much and each of these topics could be a future blog post.  Most likely, that is exactly what will happen, but for now, I want to focus on the power of silence.  When one is surrounded by silence, it is amazing the amount of thinking and feeling that can be done.

In the silence we open our minds, our hearts and our souls to what it is we are to hear.  In the beginning, it is challenging.  The temptation to continue making lists, solving problems and letting ourselves be distracted is great.  I had to keep bringing myself back to the task at had, to simply listen.  Before long, though it became natural and I reveled in the quiet, the stillness and the peace.  My mind opened to the challenges placed before me, my heart ached as I searched within and came face to face with some deep emotions and my soul was fed as I read of God's unending love for me, imperfect as I am.

Much too soon, our 24 hours of silence came to an end and it was time to re-enter the world.  I arrived home to the aroma of fresh-cut pine.  My Christmas cards are sitting just where I left them, the CD playlist needs to be finalized, the shopping still needs to be done and the evening with Investment Bankers is 24 hours closer.  I must say, though that I am better prepared to face the tasks at hand.

I had my time of peace and quiet and I feel refreshed and ready to tackle my tasks, one at a time.  I am calmer and I feel as though my inner core, my heart and my soul have been fed.  I am prepared now to focus on the true reason for the Christmas season.  Christ came to earth as a baby, quietly, on a silent night two thousand years ago.  I have been listening to a song by Audrey Assad and the lyric so beautifully reminds me of Christ's example to us of that stillness, that quiet.  I've included the link so the song can be listened to and the lyric is written below.  My hope is that we may all find a place of peace, quiet, silence and stillness in our lives.  

http://www.rhapsody.com/-search?query=winter%20snow%20chris%20tomlin&searchtype=RhapKeyword

Winter Snow

Could’ve come like a mighty storm

With all the strength of a hurricane

You could’ve come like a forest fire

With the power of Heaven in Your flame

But You came like a winter snow

Quiet and soft and slow

Falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below

You could’ve swept in like a tidal wave

Or an ocean to ravish our hearts

You could have come through like a roaring flood

To wipe away the things we’ve scarred

But You came like a winter snow, yes, You did

You were quiet, You were soft and slow

Falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below

Ooh no; Your voice wasn’t in a bush burning

No, Your voice wasn’t in a rushing wind

It was still, it was small, it was hidden

Oh, You came like a winter snow

Quiet and soft and slow

Falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below

Falling, oh yeah, to the earth below

You came falling from the sky in the night

To the earth below