Finding My Way Back to Peace

My nine-year-old daughter, Alisha, is buried at Dry Creek Cemetery in Boise, Idaho, 812 miles from my home in Frederick, Colorado.

After Alisha died, we visited several cemeteries in Boise, trying to choose her final resting place. Nothing about that task felt natural. Parents are not supposed to choose cemeteries for their children.

Then we drove through the entrance of Dry Creek Cemetery and saw a plaque bearing these words:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid..” John 14:27 NIV

When I read those words, I knew.

This would be the place where we would bury my daughter.

Perhaps it seems strange that a verse about peace helped me make one of the most painful decisions of my life. I certainly didn’t feel peaceful. I was a grieving mother trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.

Yet those words reassured me that Alisha would not be alone. More importantly, they reminded me that I wouldn’t be alone either.

In the years since, that same verse has comforted me through hundreds of difficult circumstances. It hasn’t erased my grief, answered every question, or prevented fear from returning. It has reminded me where to turn when my thoughts begin carrying me somewhere I don’t want to go.

All of life is uncertain. We may convince ourselves that we’re in control, but one telephone call, medical diagnosis, accident, job loss, betrayal, or unexpected goodbye can change everything.

Because I’ve experienced tragedy, grief, fear, and post-traumatic stress, uncertainty can sometimes feel like quicksand. One troubling thought leads to another. Before I realize what’s happening, I feel as though I am sinking beneath the weight of everything that’s happened and everything that still could.

Finding my way back to peace begins with recognizing what is happening inside me. Then I make a choice to do one small thing that may help.

Sometimes I redirect my thoughts. I remember something beautiful, name something for which I am grateful, or picture the ocean, which has always been one of my peaceful places.

Sometimes I help another person. I call, send a text, meet someone for coffee, or ask whether they need anything. Caring for someone else gently shifts my attention away from the fearful thoughts circling inside my mind.

Sometimes I need to rest. When I’m exhausted, my thoughts often become darker. A nap, an early bedtime, or simply allowing myself to stop can make the situation feel more manageable.I could eat a nourishing meal or drink a glass of water. Grief affects the body as well as the heart, and basic care matters more than we sometimes realize.

I also journal. Writing allows me to place my sadness, anger, fear, and confusion somewhere outside myself. The words may come with tears, but tears can be part of the release.

At other times, I share what I’m feeling with someone I trust. I don’t always need advice or answers. Sometimes I simply need a safe person who’ll listen without attempting to fix me.

Most important, I pray. I pray for myself, and I ask others to pray when I cannot find the words or strength to pray alone. I sit quietly with God and remember the promise displayed at the entrance to my daughter’s cemetery.

Jesus didn’t promise us a life without trouble. He offered us His peace in the middle of it.

The peace Jesus brings doesn’t depend on everything around me becoming peaceful. It can meet me in grief, uncertainty, exhaustion, and fear. It doesn’t always arrive as a dramatic feeling. Sometimes it comes quietly, one breath and one small choice at a time.

For You…

What helps you find your way back to peace? Is it a Scripture verse, a familiar place, a trusted friend, a song, a prayer, or a comforting memory?

Whatever you’re carrying today, you don’t have to carry it alone. The gift of Christ’s peace is still being offered, even here and even now.

Prayer:

Jesus,

Quiet the fearful thoughts within me and help me receive the peace only You can give. Remind me that I’m not alone and guide me toward one small, healthy step today. 

Amen