B - R - E - A - T - H - E

(fictional . . . unless this hits too close to your home)

MONDAY. My feet hit the floor running. Shower. Hair. Make-up. Wake up kids. Unload the dishwasher . . . make lunches . . . sign forms and scrounge for field trip money. I pass the Tree (it’s been waiting five days to be dressed). We have to put it up tonight. I call Jon the second time. We gulp breakfast, then drive to school.

I fly into the office . . . another deadline! I eat lunch at my desk. My phone rings at 2. It’s the school . . . Tessa has a high fever . . . can you pick her up? Of course. I stuff papers in my bag and head out. O no, a train! I mumble and grumble . . . white knuckles grip the wheel. Hey guys, get it together and put in that overpass! I am really irritable.

Tessa is 14, but today she is 6. She wants her mommy, a cool cloth, arms to hold her, and Tylenol. I finally think of supper . . . I throw a Costco lasagna in the mike. Dave offers to clean up so I can get groceries. You’re an absolute dear, I tell him.

Tonight we have to put up the tree. Cookies for the Holly Tea is on my list, too. Dave takes Jon to soccer. I shop, unload, make lunches, sweep the floor, throw Jon’s soccer stuff in the washer, listen to his lines for the Christmas play. I start the cookies, then Tessa calls me again.

At 9, the kids are finally in their rooms . . . Tessa is asleep, fever down. I take out my work. My head is spinning, my shoulders aching. Dave asks me a simple question and I snap at him. He backs off. I feel terrible, and I keep on working. At 11, I look at the boxes of decorations on the floor. And what about the cookies? I’m dead tired! It’s too much! I want to cry!

*To the stressed-out reader: find 5 minutes of quiet, uninterrupted time and try this:

B-R-E-A-T-H-E.

Take 3 s-l-o-w breaths . . . count 1 . . . take another slow breath, 2 . . . take another breath . . . 3

Slow it down even further 1. . . 2 . . . 3 . . . Let your whole body go limp like a rag doll.

Feel the tension leave your shoulders. 

Take another 3 breaths I . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . Notice the calmness in your body and mind.

Listen to the words, “You will keep her in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You.”

Peace?  . . .  Possible in this chaos?  . . . “Yes, He whispers.”

Take another slow breath . . . say, “Come, Prince of Peace. I breathe in the peace of Jesus.” Say it again. Feel the warm presence of His Spirit melting all tension and anxiety . . .  slowly, drink in His sweet peace . . .  

TUESDAY. Your feet hit the floor running. Write your own story . . . Remember  . . .

B-R-E-A-T-H-E  . . . and know His peace!

Ruth G.