I Just Want A Bit Of Peace!

It's Saturday, I’m wandering round picking up dirty washing

...towels on the bathroom floor, one sock on the stairs
A jumper in the dining room, [they have too many clothes]
Joe’s sitting on his bed, playing some noisy onscreen game,
    all explosions and gunfire, screams and cursing
“Turn it down” yells Hannah “I’m trying to revise.
    If I fail, and don’t get into Uni, I’ll murder you Joe”
In the kitchen Pete is glaring at the empty bread bin

“What can a man have for breakfast round here?”

I suggest cereal – but there’s no milk in the fridge
“Haven’t you done the shopping this week?” he grunts
I point out that Hannah is revising and eating mountains of toast.
    And Joe went out for an early run ...
        then drank a whole pint of milk when he got back.
I say that perhaps Pete could pop out to the shop,
I’m busy with the washing...he grabs his keys,
    pushes past me [no goodbye kiss]
        and slams the front door on his way out
I load up the coffee maker, then go upstairs to change the sheets
Joe knows what I will ask
    so he dives into the bathroom and locks the door.
My son’s room looks like a bomb’s hit it. Why can’t he help a bit?
Hannah acts like any intrusion will ruin her revision,
    and her whole future
“You just don’t understand Mum”
    [hang on, I went to Uni too, you know, years ago]
The front door opens
    “I’ve got milk!” sings out my now cheerful husband
Two teenagers race each other to the kitchen
    they somehow don’t notice me, coming downstairs,
    arms full of bedlinen, I’m nearly knocked over
I gather up the scattered pillowcases and duvet covers
By the time I get to the kitchen they all have coffee and toast
I hover in the doorway,
    hoping someone will pour me a mug of reviving caffeine
Nobody does, they are all talking at once,
    so I slam the laundry basket on the table
And I start yelling, and shouting and swearing at them
I tell them they are inconsiderate,
    I feel taken for granted, I’m sick of all of them
They stand open mouthed – never seen their Mum like this.
I grab Pete’s mug which he put down as I began my rant.
    “I’m taking this into the lounge...
        I JUST WANT A BIT OF PEACE!” And I walk out of the kitchen.
In the lounge I pick up the newspaper somebody’s left on the floor
The headlines scream out at me
“FIGHTING INTENSIFIES IN UKRAINE, MORE DEATHS IN GAZA”
Stupid warmongering men
    – why can’t they see the senselessness of fighting. Nobody wins.
I look at the pictures and I start to weep
    – women grabbing towels to staunch bleeding wounds
Mothers cradling tiny children dying of hunger.
    Nurses using rags for bandages
A grandmother with sad eyes,
    staring at her family home, now reduced to a bomb crater
Widows laying flowers at a row of graves
    each marked with a crude wooden cross
And I’m ashamed of myself, and I feel so impotent
  – THESE are the women who want a bit of peace
I go back into the kitchen and say sorry – Pete hugs me
I ask if the family will help me...
    I want to sort out some warm clothes for the Aid Centre
And perhaps the family could have a roast dinner together this evening?
    Joe volunteers to peel the spuds,
        Hannah is sick of revising, and offers to make an apple pie
Pete says nothing, he is busy loading the washing machine.
… I realise the atmosphere has changed,
 ...the kitchen feels warmer somehow
And that song we sang at school echoes in my brain
Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me

A poem originally written

for the Ukrainian Aid Centre,
for Dereham Peace Day

©Angela Almond

9/11

I found this prayer by Jill Duffield, a Presbyterian pastor, wife and mother. I thought it was worth sharing. I was particularly touched by the fourth stanza. My thoughts today are with friends in the USA, and others still affected by events of that dreadful day...

God of grace and God of glory, on this anniversary of the terrorist attacks of 9/11, grant us the wisdom to remember the lessons from that tragic day that make us more Christ-like. Drive away from us any vengeful urges, any hate-filled sentiment, any whisper from within or without that goads us to return evil for evil. As the world still heaves with violence and war seems to never end, assure us, Prince of Peace, that ultimately crying and mourning will be no more. In the midst of suffering, our own and that of the world, speak again, Creator God, your performative Word of life and its goodness.

We pray for those whose lives were forever changed on September 11, 2001. Grant comfort to those who grieve. Strengthen those who struggle with questions that remain unanswered. Assure those who worry that they should have said or done something differently that you gather up all the fragments of our lives, bless and use them in ways that nourish.

We thank you, Lord of all, for the people who every day put their lives in danger to protect and serve others. We pray for first responders, medical personnel, police officers, firefighters and all who never know what work will bring on any given day. Grant them wisdom, courage and rest.

We are grateful for the new life born since the attacks  – for those beloved children who don’t remember that day. We give thanks for the saints who were with us then, but have since gone on to eternal life. When we mark anniversaries of sorrow, corporately or alone, may they be occasions to discern what truly matters, let go of what really doesn’t and recognize your grace, Almighty God, that pervades it all.

In the name of Jesus, the light of the world,  the Prince of Peace, the Good Shepherd, our friend and our helper, we pray. Amen.