From Turmoil To Peace (Not A Post On War)

When I was a kid, my life got pretty crazy.  My dad had a big drug problem and things got so bad, he just went insane.  There were days he wasn’t himself, and he did things that had me and my sister begging my mom to leave him.  One day, she finally agreed.  I’ll never forget it.  We felt like hostages in our home as he waved a gun around and spoke in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.  I don’t know if he was completely strung out or just simply crazy from frying his brain for so long, but I thought we were all going to die that day.  I remember looking at my baby sister and imagined our picture in the paper with headlines revealing how my dad shot us all before killing himself.  I remember thinking, not my baby sister, she is just too special to die. 

Of course, my dad was acting so crazy, I knew that he could just shoot himself and it all would be overwith.  I imagined him shooting himself in front of all of us, in front of my baby sister.  It wasn’t hard to imagine as he waved his gun around and told my mom, “Go ahead.  Call the sheriff.  There will be blood tonight!” and then laughed wickedly.  Yeah.  I guess you could say he’d gone off the deep end.  I didn’t want to see my dad die either.  I loved him too, inspite of his crazy behavior.  He wasn’t always that way. 

Finally, he left.  He took off and we didn’t know where he went or for how long, but I remember as soon as he shut the front door and pulled out of the driveway my middle sister and I begging my mom to get us out of there.  Seconds later, we were frantically packing bags.  I remember throwing clothes into a suitcase. I didn’t even care if they matched.  My heart was pounding so wildly as I thought about my dad walking in, catching us packing up to leave.  We had to hurry before he got back!  I was literally in a state of panick, yelling at my sister to hurry up with her bag, hurry up and get it in the car, hurry up, hurry up!

Who knows how long we really spent gathering our things, but it felt like only minutes before we too were pulling out of the driveway.  We went the only place we knew to go – to our pastor.  He actually owned this small duplex that was well hidden and let us stay for free.  My kids have a hard time believing me when I tell them how small this piece of crap place really was.  It was probably the size of my kitchen /breakfast room is now.  It seemed old and nasty, but there was a bedroom, a bathroom, and the kitchenette and living room were one room.  I remember looking at the little stove top, thinking I’d never seen one so small before!  This shack of a place became heaven to us, because for once in a long time, we felt safe.  I loved it there.

I want to say my mom and baby sister took the bedroom while my middle sister and I took the couch/floor in the living room.  And the church supplied us with food from the food closet because we had no money.  Mac & Cheese and Hamburger Helper never tasted so good!  My mom was a SAHM who homeschooled us, so needless to say, without the church, we would have been screwed! 

Eventually my dad decided he needed to go to rehab.  My mom brought us back home, and over the next several years,  we experienced a rollercoaster life, never knowing when Dad was staying or leaving, clean or on drugs.  There were arguements and holes punched in walls and doors, and crazy things happening on a spiritual level that I’ll keep to myself.  Drug addiction is such a struggle, I pray my children will never even dabble in drugs.

So by my senior year, I knew all too well what it was like to live in chaos and turmoil that drugs can bring into a home.  I was so blessed when my art teacher took me under her wing that year.  I’d never taken an art class, but my senior year, I decided to enroll in art 1.  Towards the end of the first semester, my art teacher approached me asking me if I’d be okay with moving up to Art 3.  “Really?  Do you think I can handle that?” 

In art 3 I had the opportunity to get to know her more and we had great conversations about faith and God.  She allowed some of us students to come to her room in the mornings to pray before school started, and when she talked to us, she often placed her hand on ours, and looked deeply into our eyes.  She had such warm eyes and such a caring spirit.  You knew that when you were talking, she was listening. 

She impacted my life in so many ways, including the evening she invited many of us in the youth group at our church over to her house for a night of fun.  When I walked into her house, I felt so peaceful.  I felt like I could just sit on her couch and go to sleep.  She took me aside that night and showed me a room.  “This bed is here if you need it.  If you ever want to just get away, you are welcome to stay right here.” 

That invitation sounded so nice.  That bed was so welcoming.  I knew if I climbed in that bed, I would have the best sleep I’ve ever had in my entire life.  It felt safe.  I wish I could describe in words just how peaceful her home felt to me, but it’s impossible.  I imagine that is what Heaven feels like.

That night when I left her house, I remember thinking, “When I have my own place, I want my house to feel like this.  I want anyone who comes over to feel this same peace I felt tonight.”  And that has always been my heart’s prayer. 

Over the years, I’ve had a couple people comment on how peaceful my home feels.  It’s funny because I really don’t feel that I’ve done anything to make it that way, and it certainly doesn’t feel that way to me!  In fact, it still doesn’t even come close to the level of peace I experienced in Mrs. H’s home.  But it blesses me when I hear those words, like when my brother in law told me this is the most calm he’s felt in a long time.  I feel like I was able to take a small portion of Mrs. H’s peace and bring it into my home.  I just hope I can make it grow, that this level of peace will also be felt by my children, and that I will be able to one day offer a room to someone who is hurting and say, “This room is here for you any time you need it.  Come.  Sleep.  Rest in His peace.