I read this verse in psalm 131 and it gave me something to think about for a good while now:

But I have stilled and quieted my soul
like a weaned child with its mother
like a weaned child is my soul within me                               

I haven’t thought about it in its context because its next to a bunch of verses and other psalms about hoping in the Lord and whatnot.  I don’t really contemplate much about that, hoping in the Lord.  I know David did and I know the whole point of his writing here is likely that we should also.  I am just not a terribly big fan of hoping in or for things. It’s not that I don’t have faith, I just don’t have much patience and I think hope implies having patience, which I don’t have.  Also, hope often begets disappointment for me, and I really can’t stand disappointment, although it happens fairly regularly.  Perhaps I don’t understand the concept of hope in the way they talk about it in the bible, or anywhere else.

In any event, this post isn’t about hope or what’s in the bible.  It’s about the perfect peace David suggests with the image he puts forward. I have been trying to imagine what it feels like to be a weaned child next to its mother. I think it’s perfect peace.  It’s a beautiful image to me.  This child is full, content, safe and loved, free to imagine, etc… all the things a child experiences in her presence, hopefully (ironic word choice, I know).  I have tried to imagine myself by my own mother as a small child and the feeling I might have there.  I don’t think it is much different than what David intended.  It is a good place mentally, physically and emotionally for anyone.

I tried to hang onto the idea and the feeling described by the image of that child with its mother in the psalm. I realize that this is something familiar to me although my own mother passed away several years ago and I am turning 56 in a few weeks.  I still experience it though, oddly, and I bet it is because I was loved so very much as a child.  I tried putting it into a few clumsy verses below. 

I have stilled and quieted my soul
like a child beside her mother
Like a child beside her mother
is my soul within me

When the day is done and the doing has become, futile
I climb, in my mind, close to her memory
The sheets on my bed are starched and cool
pulled tight, tucked squarely on the corners
my feet lead the way for my body to lay, quiet
enclosed in perfect order

I am old and heavy but supported here, finally
the space is dark and fresh
I turn toward rest and I recall her breath
its steady rhythm replaces my thoughts
of piled up worry and the constant
pressure to hurry, nowhere

My face peeks above the blanket line
just far enough to find the quiet night air
that meets and calms my breathing
as it becomes deep and slow and long,
what I’ve wanted all along
nearness to love and forgiveness

I drift without particular direction
comforted by a simple connection
to my bed, my room, the earth the sky
to God and life and a family line
where I am much-loved forever and
sleep itself is my reward, or my advantage

I have stilled and quieted my soul
Like a child beside her mother
Like a child beside her mother
is my soul within me

I am terribly grateful for the mother I had.  She really did love me endlessly, I know that.  So much so that when I read the psalm and thought about the image David used, I knew what he was talking about even if the hope he suggests in the neighboring verses is a more difficult concept for me.    Being a weaned child with its mother is being in perfect peace, I got that part, thanks I am sure to my own mom.  It is a truly sacred and satisfying connection.  I like the image.  I like that I still experience this peace as I fall asleep too.  I am lucky, and I enjoy thinking about powerful images and simple gifts.