You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you.

It is providence that on Thursday Single Roots will be publishing a piece of mine on peace—providence because right now I have none. Providence, also, because I've let laziness creep in like our neighbor's cat who fancies himself at home on our back porch, taking ownership over something it has no rights to own or inhabit.

A year ago at this time I was filled with an auspicious peace. It was the kind that rested in the pit of my stomach, on the shelf of my shoulder, and on the tip of my tongue. It was present. It was hopeful. It was solid. It was certain.

This year I feel battled from within and without.

Last night my roommate and I sat on the couch next to one another and there was a lot of "Me tooing" going on. It landed us with clasped hands and prayers for one another and for ourselves.

It is true that I have taken my eyes off of the Father in these past weeks, it is true that I have worshiped the creation over the Creator, and it is true that I am not broken by my sin, not in the way I long to be and not, most certainly, in the way that spreads wide the path to peace.

It is also true that I do not let myself simply receive from the Giver of perfect peace, to be like our neighbor's cat who assumes that the world is his and everything in it, which, I think, may be the truest way to peace after all.