Prayers for Peace: If it happens, I hope it happens on a Wednesday afternoon

I remember it like it was a dream. Digging in the dirt looking desperately for roots too cook and eat. Taking my favorite books and burning them to keep myself and family warm through a harsh war wrought wintertime. Performing inadequate wound care on the injured. These dream state memories aren’t mine alone, they are owned by all of us. A collective memory of War that we all hold in our subconscious. War. That painful dark ripping agony that many of us in developed countries have avoided since the mushroom cloud exploded in Japan years ago. When the Japanese sacrificed thousands of lives in such an unbelievable way, that a tentative peace has existed amongst superpower nations. And our nation has been at the forefront of perplexing and chronic wars that damage and hurt other countries, but for the most part have kept war violence from coming to our own civilian population. War; that all too human remedy for profound ego. Just when we start to take it all for granted of how good it is, and the echoes of our presumptuous voices begin to reverberate in the heavens. The heavens respond by sending us a collective message: It’s really time for you to grow up humanity. Start to appreciate what you have. Stop underestimating the strength of your enemies. Start focusing on peace and good will, because this is going to be beyond unbelievably horrible, no good,very bad and truly dreadful. So as I watch the headlines evolve and I see the volatile tweets, and the escalating munitions in North Korea, the dread just grows inside me. It just feels like the
perfect storm, so much denial on our end. “Oh they probably couldn’t get the missile to land all the way here.” “Oh the US has a missile defense system that would stop it.” “Oh CHINA would back us up.” Hmmmm, especially where China is concerned, and our missile defense system, it just feels like too many unknowns. These assumptions could so easily lead to a mushroom shaped cloud somewhere and then even worse, multiple mushroom shaped clouds and a permanently grey sky. I haven’t bought those buckets of survival food at Costco yet. And even if I had, would I announce it in this article, because then more folks then I could feed would be showing up at my home, possibly armed, looking for my Costco buckets.
But what I have done is turned my earnest heart to prayer. And no one can escape from these positive thought bubbles of mine, or whatever you want to call them.
Even Kim Jong-un, especially he gets my prayer. Because my prayers for him for
peace potentially envelop all those mothers, children and loving families that live
under his regime. Families just like mine, cozy in our homes at night, but very
different culturally.
I also of course pray for a decent haircut for him and our own president. That’s not
to much to ask right?

So I pray for all of our Earth, that we learn the lesson in a different way than War.
That our hearts spill over with gratitude for what we have. That we begin to find a
way to work together, to protect each other and to create a world where charity and
peace reign. That a true healing miracle occurs and capitalism redirects itself to
kindness, serving the poor and helping our earth. These imaginary and elusive
thought bubbles of mine poor out of me, especially in the early tender hours of
morning, when the veil between us and the others whom we’ve loved and have
passed on is the most thin. When I can easily hear the frequency of John Lennons
heart song “Imagine” and I can see a future, before I grab my phone and look at any
headlines, that peace is a real possibility.
My son goes to school in White Rock, New Mexico, just a few miles from the Lost
Alamos National Labs, the heart and mind of our nuclear program and a sure target
if there were a nuclear war. Wednesday is a half day. If it happens in the afternoon,
we’ll already be driving away from the blast radius to our out of district home.
Maybe we’d still get fried up anyway, but maybe not.
If it happens in the morning, I get to leave with my child in a bright flash of light and
won’t have to find a hiding place away from the fallout. Maybe that morning both my
husband and I would have driven carpool to White Rock and the whole family would
exit swiftly. Except for my dogs, who would be wondering what the heck happened?
Anyway the doomsday scenario goes on and on.
But when my mind revs up with these imaginings, and mental preparation for what
might happen, my heart and mind wander out to the so many others all around the
world who truly love and care for their loved ones. How war doesn’t discriminate,
and we would have no control of which ones of us survived and which of us pass
over to the other side. And the heart wrenching and destructive aspects of war push
me to hold my little one close and keep those positive thought bubbles pouring out.
Does it make a difference, who knows? I just pray for sanity in our leaders, that we
all get to keep enjoying the simple things in life; a sunny day, good food, love……..
and Wednesday afternoons.
Photo Credit: Print advertisment created by Leo Burnett,
United States for Recipeace, within the category: Public
Interest, NGO.

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