Finding Peace in Your Own Backyard

Come as You Are

We are in the middle of our slow read of Searching for and Maintaining Peace by Jacques Philippe. This week, we read pages 33-40. You need not have read the book to appreciate the following essay.

 

Last night, I was sitting on the back patio with our dog, enjoying the cool evening air. Cleveland is delightful for seven months a year–the other five are great if you love cold, wet weather. 

As the sun was sinking toward the edges of Lake Erie, I heard an unexpected rustling noise. Maggie looked around but did not bark so I was only momentarily afraid of an intruder. 

Scanning the yard, I saw a young doe saunter along the edge of the back flower bed like a wedding guest at the dessert table. The deer was not worried about us, as she grazed on the daylilies that were done for the day. 

At about the same time, a bunny rabbit came out to play with a friend. A squirrel joined in their game of chase. We sat and watched while the animals tumbled around in the grass without fear. 

They were so peaceful and cuddly looking, I wanted to give them each a hug. Since they are wild animals, I watched from a distance. 

Just before their arrival, I had been thinking about the section of Searching for and Maintaining Peace we’ve been reading (pages 33-40). I had already attempted to start this essay and was coming up blank. Everything I wrote sounded like superficial platitudes. 

This section has been particularly thorny for me. I spent the day struggling to translate what Philippe is talking about without dismissing the gravity of suffering and personal pain. Because overly religious language often makes my struggles feel minimized.

But I don’t think that is what Philippe is trying to do in this section.

I thought about all the times I’ve moved and had to start over. I thought about other hard things: parenting struggles we’ve navigated, grief our family has experienced, cancer scares, rejections, job losses, and market crashes. All of this felt so nuanced it would take a book to describe what surrendering looks like for me. Yes, prayer and trust in God helped me tremendously in each situation. But I worried I was unable to write anything authentic.

And then the deer walked in. 

Some people take extraordinary measures to keep deer away from their yards. There are some parts of the country where having deer this close induces fear because of the risk of Lyme disease. Lyme is a clear and present danger for parts of our country. Fortunately, Lyme is not prevalent here. 

Deer can ravage a garden, especially if your plants are considered a main course like berries, apples, and pears. It takes a lot of energy and effort to protect your crop from deer. An entire season’s worth of work and patience can be destroyed in just a few minutes if a few deer wander over while hungry. 

Most of the plants in our yard, other than grass and acorns, are ignored by deer. The yard was landscaped with the deer in mind because they are frequent guests. 

The animals and I were able to be in the same space because I was at peace with their presence. I did not feel the urge to shoo her away or chase the rabbits from their warren. The plants did not need me to protect them. The animals were not causing any damage I needed to immediately fix.

All that I needed to do in that moment was to sit peacefully and watch. 

I imagined the area less as “my” yard and more as “our” yard. A place I can steward for all of us to enjoy. 

In this section of SFMP, Philippe uses the terms surrendering and abandoning.

The term “surrendering” sounds a lot like giving up to me. It’s a word used in war, to describe the prisoners of the losing side.

“Abandoning” is often associated with not caring anymore, with walking away from what was yours. This too feels militaristic, as if there is someone forcing me to leave behind something I own or to which I’m entitled. 

These negative connotations might be why I struggle so much with this terminology. I wonder if it’s the language and not the practice I was mentally resisting. 

I’m neither a giver-upper nor an uncaring kind of person. In truth, I don’t think any of us are. We are “get things done” kinds of people, we can be counted on by others. We care so deeply that we are often tied up in knots about all that we care about, especially other people. 

We can get so tied up and agitated, that we find it difficult to think clearly, let alone meditate and contemplate.  This might be what Philippe is recommending we avoid. This building of fences, announcements of ownership, and efforts over possession seem contrary to the way we saw Jesus live.

I’m wondering if it’s time to shift the language we are using. Words like invitation, welcome, hospitality, and enjoyment sound a lot more appealing than abandon and surrender. ¹

Here are some questions I’m going to ponder in the coming days: 

• Have I erected fences to mark what is mine? What would it look like if I invited God to move freely without fences/borders/boundaries? 

• What if I welcomed everything and everyone with love and without prejudgment? 

• What kind of hospitality could I offer to unexpected events? 

• What could I enjoy rather than control? 

I’d love to hear from you: 

What stood out to you in this section? Click on the speech bubble below and let me know what you’re thinking.

1. In a little bit of irony, I am writing this on Tuesday, July 11 which is the Feast of St. Benedict. He was one of the first to write a “rule” for living in a monastery. You can learn more about the rules for welcoming guests here. St. Benedict wrote that all guests who presented themselves at the monastery were received as if one were receiving Christ. The first thing the brother who welcomes the stranger was to do was to pray with them “and thus be united in peace”. I love how God works in His hidden and unknown ways.