Work shoes off. Sneakers on. Time to start my daily walk. I drove to my starting point and stretched my legs. My strolls were special to me—my time to talk to God about my troubles. And I had a lot of them. Health problems, family issues, money issues—you name it.
It had been an unusually hard year, and it wasn’t even summer yet! I feared what the future might bring. God, I just need some peace, I thought.
Lord, it seems like everything is culminating all at once, I said as I hung a right onto Hoffman St.. I am at my wit’s end. I turned down Clinton Street and thought of my brother, who was fighting for his life against a long-term illness.
At Portage, thoughts of my disintegrating 18-year marriage tugged at my heart. With each step, the pressures seemed to build: raising two teenage girls largely on my own, mourning my father’s death, the stress of a new job, my recent surgery. There was no peace to be found. Not today.
Did God even hear me? I turned onto Circle Drive, a sleepy road with no sidewalks and very light traffic. My muscles tightened against the slight grade as I walked up the center of the road. At the top of the incline, I stopped to catch my breath. What’s that?
Among the loose asphalt and broken leaves, I caught a glimpse of blue and white. I looked closer. A blue and white beaded bracelet. Shiny and new. So pristine, it must have been dropped recently.
I picked it up. Black letters were printed on the white beads. They spelled out a word: PEACE.
Where had it come from? I looked around, but didn’t see another soul on the street. I read the word again. And again. Peace.
I returned to my car and hung the bracelet on my rearview mirror. No, all my problems weren’t solved, not yet. But I knew peace was in my future.
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