from lamenting to peace

The following writings are journeys of lamenting is necessary AND finding peace on the other side.


a ‘feitheamh  (Anticipation)
    The battle raged for most of the day and on through the night. Cries, screams, metal clanging against metal. Fires sprang up in the night but winked out before dawn. The sounds drifted through the trees and reached the village that waited for daylight. 
    When it came, the stronger women wandered through the now-silent battlefield, steam rising from carrion they would rather not see. The mothers, sisters, brides, now wailing banshees for their men who would never come home to them. 
    One woman, Máirίn, skirting the edge of the field, came upon a tartan that she knew all too well. It was the woven pattern of her husband’s ancient family. She ran towards him, shoving the body of the enemy soldier off the legs of her beloved. Conor lay there unmoving and for one moment she thought her life had ended too. But as she watched, she saw the rise and fall of his chest. Hope spurred her to touch his cheek and she felt warm skin through the ginger beard. 
    His eyes flickered at her touch and his dry throat croaked her name, “Máirίn”. As she fell over his body, kissing his unbloodied face, serenity flowed through her like a quiet mountain stream in the shade of a willow tree. 
    He would live! God had answered her night-long prayers. 

Susan Stedman 





The phone rang at 3 a.m. and my heart descended into an abyss. My soul felt as empty as a deserted well when I received the devastating news of my mother’s passing. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t expected. I just didn’t know how I was going to process it. I felt completely drained and my heart was as parched as my tear ducts. Then, a song began to fill my spirit as God watered my weariness with a new stream of living water. 

“All my life You have been faithful. All my life You have been so, so good. With every breath that I am able, I will sing of the goodness of God”. 

My mother always declared how blessed and thankful she was at the youthful age of 99. I recalled the glow of shalom on her face in her final days. At that moment, my soul was a green meadow of tranquility because I knew that she was now face to face with all His goodness. 
By Donna Butler

​