Be Still, My Soul

Where can I turn for peace?

Where is my solace

When other sources cease to make me whole?

When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice,

I draw myself apart,

Searching my soul?

Where, when my aching grows,

Where, when I languish,

Where, in my need to know, where can I run?

Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?*

 

The world's a scary place today. The absolute BIGNESS of the strife... it's almost paralyzing sometimes. Boston, Newtown, Benghazi, Baghdad, Pyongyang... and not only evil at the hands of man, but suffering at the hands of Nature- earthquakes, tsunamis, wildfires, floods, plagues, hurricanes. Week after week and month after month we're bombarded with tragic headlines, frantic tweets, dire predictions and mournful recaps. A sponge can only absorb so much fluid and I feel like I'm a sponge at capacity- it's overwhelming. It's incomprehensible. It's impossible to take it all in.

When I start to feel this way, my primary defense mechanism is to re-focus. Keep it simple. I put things in order in my life. I spend more time with my kids. I pray more, I listen better, I search out the heroes and the hope in the madness. It's not always easy to find them though, and throughout that personal turmoil I know my children sense the strain in me. My sweet, innocent children, for whom the worst fathomable thing in the world is... bedtime. Oh, that it could be ever so. 

Like many parents, I sing to my babies at bedtime. I want them to fall asleep happy and calm. I want them to dream of worlds full of rainbows and sunshine and puppies, so I try to send them off with simple songs of joy to their little slumberlands. But I know it doesn't always work- I know sometimes Damien can't be comforted about the agony of having to stop playing for sleep, and Lyric can't be convinced that the world isn't ending because the front wall of her crib has been converted to a toddler-bed safety rail. I know they're anxious about their little sections of the world. Heaven knows I'm anxious about mine at times.

Today in the car on the way home from the grocery store, I was singing songs with them as usual. We sang through "Once Upon a Dream," the alphabet, "How much is that Eeyore in the window (oh bother!)" and finally, "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." This concert was interrupted by Damien: 

"Mom, sometimes after you put me in bed, the Holy Ghost sings Twinkle Twinkle to me so that I can fall asleep. He sings it in my heart. I think He stays invisible so He won't scare Lyric."

 

Such childish purity, to hear the Spirit singing in his heart. Such faith, to recognize it for what it is. Such love, to think of his sister, even when he's sad. I've got to work my way back towards that innocence. To show more selfless love to my fellow man. I've got to be prepared to allow that great Comforter to do His job. I must have faith in the Lord that He holds this world in His hands. That after all the pain and sorrow and sickness and tragedy, He will heal the hearts of men. I'm glad I have such an exceptional example in my little boy, so much nearer to God than I am. When the tempests of evil and Nature rage, I must allow the Holy Ghost to sing peace to my heart.

 

Be still, my soul: Thy God doth undertake

To guide the future as he has the past.

Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;

All now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul: The waves and winds still know

His voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.

 

Be still, my soul: The hour is hast'ning on

When we shall be forever with the Lord,

When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul: When change and tears are past,

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.**

*Where Can I Turn For Peace- LDS Hymnbook #129; Text: Emma Lou Thayne, b. 1924. (c) 1973 IRI; Music: Joleen G. Meredith, b. 1935. (c) 1973 

**Be Still, My Soul- LDS Hymnbook #124; Text: Katharina von Schlegel, b. 1697; trans. by Jane Borthwick, 1813-1897