We McCloskey’s have welcomed a Roomba robot vacuum cleaner into our home. What a life-changing jewel of a product! We determined anything that cleans that well is female, and we dotingly call her Effy. She looks like a cast-iron skillet on wheels, and she rumbles, rolls, and emits an occasional beep. Every morning, like clockwork, she comes out of hibernation to vacuum. And every morning, like clockwork, we have doggy pandemonium.
Snickers jumps up barking, which alerts Pabu, who thinks anything upsetting Snickers must be bark worthy. Snickers watches Effy and barks, Pabu watches Snickers and barks, but Molly watches me. I look at Molly, tell her not to worry, and she goes and lies down in her dog bed for a nap. She will even sleep through Effy cleaning around the bed she’s lying in. Molly’s not worried because I’m not worried.
Molly’s ability to sleep through what the other dogs perceive as a threat results from her dependency on me. The other dogs like a bit of independence, and that’s okay. I love them just the same. But Molly decided long ago there are benefits in remaining close to her master. Goody’s fall off my plate, and she’s there. I like to feel her fur, so she’s always got a hand scratching her. She has learned I will protect her from harm, even a rumbling Roomba bumping against her dog bed. Molly’s life is simple because she trusts me.
I can’t help but notice, as much as I love Snickers, he is a champion over-reactor and catastrophizer. He watches out the picture window to alert of any possible predators. Squirrel, bird, potato chip bag blowing, Dave (the world’s greatest mail-carrier), all these have the same level of urgency in Snickers mind. Molly doesn’t waste her time with such nonsense, not when scratching and goodies are available.
We are at an unprecedented time in our lives. But just because we see things out the picture window we aren’t used to doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. I refuse to worry about anything my Master isn’t worried about, and He’s undoubtedly not nervous about politics. In fact, I suspect a Roomba might be rumbling about, cleaning up messes we are unaware of.
Isaiah 26:3, “You will keep in perfect and constant peace, the one whose mind is steadfast on You because he trusts in You.” We water down the phrase “perfect peace” and think it’s talking about our stress level. To the Jewish mind, peace means Shalom. Shalom = peace, harmony, wholeness, completeness, prosperity, welfare, and tranquility.
If you wonder what Shalom looks like, imagine Molly (belly full and ears recently scratched) sleeping in her dog bed while Effy rumbles around it, cleaning up after her. That’s perfect peace. And that’s available to you as you place your trust in the Father.