“NOOOOOO. Not again!! Please???” Muffled grunts and a loud, “MOMMYYYY!!! NO POWERRRRR!!!!”

The day my child raged at the fan was an eye-opener. Later she told Grammy she loves the outside of our new house, but the inside is “funky.” I’m sorry… what??? Funky?!? What is funky about the house we poured so much energy, care, and love into to become a beautiful home for you?! The fans. They keep going off. Okay… fair enough. The inside is funky.

Power outages have been the theme of our return. We’re in a new house facing new challenges as we settle in, but the power has rightly or wrongly been at the top of our stress list. I was talking to a teammate and fellow mom about it one night, both of us laughing at how our kids respond to the fan blades slow and steady decline into the still position when, at her prodding, it hit me. I am not a peaceful person. Power goes out. It’s just the reality of living life in Madang. I knew that moving down here, I knew that coming back, and yet it still grates and produces guttural frustration that disrupts all aspects of my workings and doings in the house.

I’ve put a lot of thought into the environment in which I’m raising Ray and Willa. I want to give them a home that is comfortable, cared for, and visually appealing. I was raised that way and I loved it. I’m one of those people who can’t divide the chaos or order of my surroundings from how I feel internally. Ray appreciates order, too, and I want to give her calm and peace (jury’s still out on Willa, but leaning heavily towards chaos). I’ve spent countless hours figuring out how to make our home visually and environmentally peaceful with most of my energy spent on the schoolroom. It has become the safe space I was hoping for, since so much about homeschooling is hard. The first time I found both girls retreating into that room to quietly look at books together rather than their bedroom, I knew I had achieved my goal.

Until Ray raged at the fan. I started watching myself knowing that what I was seeing in her was a learned behavior. It’s what I do, and it didn’t look nice. Or calm. Or peaceful. It looked unsettled and angry. I started to see how short my fuse has been, probably due to a lot of really understandable things. My teeth hurt. We’re coming down off of major transition. It’s hot and we’re getting used to that again. Homeschooling is a challenge. But none of that, combined with many other things I could list, are acceptable excuses for being discordant. I started to see that all the energy I’ve spent trying to create something peaceful around them wasn’t time poorly spent, but it wasn’t matched with an internal striving for peace. How I help them learn to lean on God for peace in their hearts at all times and despite their surroundings is so much more important than what kind of home they’re in.

The day after God started revealing this to me we read about Isaac and the wells of water in school. Repeatedly Isaac chose to put aside his rights for the good of peace. He didn’t fight or get angry, he chose the road of meekness for the sake of peace. We stopped reading and put one word on the board: peaceful. We’ve never done annual words before, but it seemed to be a good idea for our school year. We decorated it exactly how Ray and Willa wanted it decorated, and decided we would leave it there as a daily reminder. When one of us (me included) starts to spiral into a bad attitude we say, “Peaceful. Be peaceful.” More often than not, it works! Ray has started to move from school into her room when she needs to quiet her spirit. The first time she did that, I walked her through praying for help. While she continued seeking peace on her bed, I stayed in the schoolroom praying for her and myself, for quiet hearts and steady minds. She walked back in with her eyes sparkling again saying she didn’t want Satan to win, and sat down to work through what was frustrating her before.

I can’t lie and say it’s worked every time that way. It hasn’t. We have a long way to go as we strive to be people of peace. But I do feel deeply content that we’re living in a high stress environment with teammates who can push us on to be better, reminding us through both conversation and reflection that God calls us to be always growing, never just okay with where we’re at. I still groan when the fan blades slow to a halt, but the word written on the board in the schoolroom is burned into my mind. And the first time Ray said in loving tones, “Mommy, be peaceful,” was a balm to my soul. Bring it, PNG Power. Every time you fail us, we can practice our peace.