Here's something I wrote a few years back after coming back from a date with my hubby. I felt inspired to write what the Lord was teaching me through him that night. It's quite a bit longer than my usual entries, but I hope you are uplifted and encouraged!
Peace Like a River
By Erin Butler
We are so different.
I am watching my husband; admiring him really. He is standing only shin-deep in a quiet, cold river, gently casting his fly rod back and forth, back and forth, fishing for small trout in the dark of a winter night. The brightly illuminated moon ripples in the reflection of the slowly moving water and casts a brilliant light into this winter night sky. There’s hardly a sound, except the occasional car driving over the nearby dam, or the flap of wings from a rising heron, alarmed by some quiet, unknown reason and moved to sudden flight. The dark blue sky is so clear that each and every white star seems to stand out in the perfect, serene stillness. It is so beautiful, so peaceful…and so cold!
My husband is lost in his simple pleasure of fishing, and although I’ve never shared in this kind of pleasure in my own past, I love to be here with him, watching him, learning from him, and just being a part of something he delights in so completely. He smiles back at me often as I stand nearby on the edge of the water. I sing a little into the night, and occasionally stop and take pictures of the few brown or rainbow trout he has caught before he lets them go again. As I stand there watching and waiting and admiring, I let my mind wander a bit (as it so often does anyhow) and I find myself contemplating this obvious conclusion: we are so different.
I know this kind of observation couldn’t be less profound. There are the obvious externals: He is male, I am female. We are different. Or there is the whole issue of temperature—I’m cold-natured (not to be mistaken with cold-blooded!) and he is quite the opposite. For example, here I stand in this chilly winter air, ridiculously cold, looking like a blob all bundled up. I have to laugh at myself every time I imagine what I must look like—big and ridiculous! Of course Aaron thinks I look cute, so I’m okay with it. And then there is him, clad only in his long-sleeve shirt and hooded sweatshirt over top. That’s it! He has waders on that go over his shoulders and buckle in the front, and he is standing in what I imagine to be freezing water, reaching in frequently with his bare hands to touch the cold, slimy fish. Did I mention that I am still shivering and he looks as comfortable as can be?
So, yeah, obviously we are different. But that’s not what I’m referring to; not our obvious differences. There is something more, something deeper I’m getting at. There is something in him—his demeanor and his calm—that I admire and that I so often long for. As I watch him, as I observe him in this place and the whole environment, I can see that he is completely and utterly covered with a Peace…some unearthly and all-consuming Peace. It seems as if no cares or concerns of life could even touch him, as if they all disappear the moment he steps into this place.
And then something else hits me. This is worship for him—worship of our Almighty Creator—just being here. This is prayer for him, just being here. He doesn’t even have to say anything. For him, being surrounded by God’s glorious creation, even in the dead of night and in the dark cold of winter, doing something he has loved and that has partially defined him since he was a kid, this is his communion with the Lord. Peace.
I wonder about this, how this place can affect him in such a way. On the contrary, my thoughts hardly shut down. Even in a glorious setting as this—and I do love nature—it seems to take a little more effort on my part to be where he is. I try to breathe in deep and look all around me and take it all in. I say a little prayer and sing some worship songs, but I am not immersed in that same peace and calm that I see in my wonderful husband. At the moment I am actually thinking about how cold my toes are! Or more often I am wondering about my latest worry or contemplating my schedule for the next day. I am here, but he is here, fully, mind and body and spirit. And I find myself mesmerized simply by that. And it makes me enjoy these surrounding a little bit more. More than anything it makes me long to taste that kind of peace. I want to be in this moment like he is, leaving my tomorrows to the Lord, as He tells us to, and living fully each moment I am blessed to have.
Isaiah 26:3-4 says, “You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord, is the Rock eternal.” I think of this verse, a favorite of mine that reminds me where my heart and head should be when it gets lost in the foggy confusion of other things. Peace comes to those who remain steadfast in the Lord. Steadfast—what a full word, encompassing so much. This is to be unwavering, unfaltering, persistent, committed, dedicated, unswerving, firm, loyal, dependable, devoted, constant, faithful…and so much more. I can’t help but realize, so suddenly and so clearly, that this is exactly how the Lord is to us. It is how this river is.
This is also my husband—so strong, solid, and unwavering. I think that he must understand something about the Lord’s will, that it is lived out each day, one day and one step at a time. He knows how to do this, and how to leave his tomorrows to the Lord. He may not even realize it, but I see it. And I desire that trait for myself. Elizabeth Elliott wrote, “The life of faith is lived one day at a time, and it has to be lived, not always looked forward to as though the ‘real’ living were around the next corner. It is today for which we are responsible. God still owns tomorrow.”
So my thoughts continue: if is just today for which we are responsible, just today that we have in front of us—and only the Lord knows how many more tomorrows we have—then why not squeeze as much juice out of it, so to speak, as we can? I believe each day has so much to offer, even in our monotonous, everyday routine. There are moments to be lived, memories to be made, chances to bless others, and the joy of being blessed ourselves! There is so much beauty all around us, in the simple things of our lives and the grand things of Creation. How much do we see, recognize, appreciate, and offer praise for? How much do we miss? How much life are we wasting with worry, frustration, bitterness, or unforgiveness? And how steadfast are we in the Lord, who gives us this Life? Is our energy focused on what truly matters?
My husband knows what matters. None of his life is wasted. He knows how to live it, simply, unaffectedly, and he’s teaching me to do the same. And now there is this moment—this cold night and my frozen feet and the winter chill on my nose and his beautiful smiling face that warms me up completely despite this frosty atmosphere—and this is exactly it! Abundant and perfect Peace! It is one of those precious life moments that I wouldn’t have wanted to miss. I whisper a prayer, my heart finally feeling rest. I want for nothing in this moment. This is Life, life with the Lord and with the gift of my husband, and I don’t ever want to waste it.
