Like when I take a walk with Isaac down by the pond, where we walk the sidewalk all the way down. A breeze collects around us. He is either by my side telling me about his dream last night, or in front of me a little ways on his scooter, talking to me about how funny something would be or noticing patterns about Animal Jam or our family or food. The sun is setting, casting gentle rays upon his smiling face.
Peaceful.
Like the time I was on Mission Arlington, and after a night of crying on the phone with my parents about how I couldn't do this by myself and how I had to go home, just lying in bed. The girls around me had stopped their pillow talk, and the room was quiet. In my sleeping bag, I stared at the ceiling. God calmed me. I would make it.
Peaceful.
Like when I'm on the swings at Harry Myer's Park, and the sky is really colorful, and I swing really high, with the wind in my face and my brothers beside me laughing.
Like when I'm praying to God and I know I'm not focused and life is hard and tugging at me, and I ask Him to calm me. And as I keep praying, I just go on and on, going into detail on each subject. And God fills me with joy, and I am grateful for everyone and everything, and I know everything will be alright.
Like when he hugs me from behind or tells me that everything will be okay and I'm doing great and God is still here.
Like when we're on a long car ride home from a trip, and the sun's going down and Isaac leans his head on my shoulder while I have my glasses on and take in the view out of the car window.
Like when I write about my struggles on my blog and I'm just like, "Yep, there it is, I said it, I recognized it, and it is in Your hands, God."
Like when he read Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief to me on the way home from our camping trip.
Like when we sat on the deck of the treehouse cabins at Messiah's Ranch and he, Rebekah, Alex, and Nick were all playing Check Yes Juliet and everyone that knew it was singing along.
Like at Mount Lebanon when you're walking down a road and just take a moment to breathe in the air around you. To breathe in the memories.
Like when my head is throbbing from crying so hard in bed at night over and over again, and God calms me down and tells me that He's right there. And I can sleep.
Like when I'm riding in the backseat of Alex's truck and he and Rebekah are up front talking on the way home from co-op when the sun just starts to set.
Like when I read the perfectly satisfying ending of a really good book.
Like when my dad lies next to me in my room and asks me about my life and listens.
Like when I'm reading the Bible and God speaks right to me clear as day.
Like when I see the sun rise during a car ride.
Like when he plays with my hair.
Like when I'm listening to Of Monsters and Men while taking a walk.
Like when Isaac comforts me when I'm sad.
Like when a song explains how I'm feeling perfectly, and is in a sense therapeutic.
Like when I'm grading papers for Mrs. Betsy and realize that everything is going to be just fine.
Like when the sky is so big that I don't only know that God has a plan, but I feel it too.
Like when I see Orion and think of his song.
Like when my family watches a movie and we're all together and happy.
Like when we visit the beach and waves keep coming back to me.
Like when I see a full moon.
Like when I feel just so at home.
Peaceful.
Peaceful.
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