Peacebirds

I realized something the other day.  I was standing in the kitchen, frosting cupcakes for the birthday party my son wanted to have for his...rabbit.  Apparently, Hunny Bunny's birthday is April 1.  No joke.  Anyway, as I was frosting, this lovely solid feeling came into my soul and I had to pause for a second.  Just like Jerry Seinfeld's "salty discharge," I couldn't immediately identify it.  What is this? 

It felt like the perfection of pound cake, sweet but not saccharine, dense but not heavy.  After a minute, I realized...this is what peace feels like.  Deep peace, frosted with contentment. 

I caught my breath, because I didn't want to scare it away.  This feeling was like a tiny bird, sitting on my head.  If I tried to grab it and hold on, the peace would be gone.

So now I am creating a safe place for the peacebird to land.  I confess, it really is hard for me, because I love five-step plans and to-do lists.  I want to tame it and make it my pet.  But peacebirds don't operate that way.  Instead, I learn to go about my day, frosting cupcakes for a rabbit, and suddenly it is there, sitting on my head again. 

I pause to drink it in with a deep breath.  Peacebirds come and go, and I have no way of creating one or forcing it to land in my heart.  I am absolved.  Free to be blessed.