On par, I seldom experience agitation, anguish or apprehension, which is the opposite of serenity. So, describing it would take forever because feeling a sense of serenity, or being serene, takes many forms and some of which I experience subconsciously. And just as serenity takes many forms, it also contains many levels, too. I am aware of a few times when I think it is fair to say that I felt comfortable and at peace with a moment I was in, and then I came into the presence of another person whose inner sense of serenity could be felt clear across the room! Now that’s what I call serenity!

I can recall very few people whom I have felt injured by over time and have had the occasion or need to forgive. Most of the time, which happens rarely, when I’ve been hurt by someone I usually just move on and forget it…or at least I think that I do! Two instances do stand out though when I have, in time, extended forgiveness so that we could move on. That was hard work, emotionally and spiritually.

Whether it’s a good sign or not, I also confess to holding value in the words of the late US House Speaker Tip O’Neil, who said, “Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.” Not exactly the mark of true reconciliation and 100% forgiveness, but in one or two instances, being mindful of that quote as served me well. Just because I may have offered someone authentic forgiveness does not always mean, nor should I expect, that they have accepted it fully as well.

Today’s question reminds me of an exercise that I once participated in while on retreat. The facilitator asked us questions nearly identical to our question for today immediately after sharing grace, after which we maintained silence while eating every meal until our last lunch before leaving for home. Pondering a question like this among two dozen people while eating in silence was a profound experience. Every bite seemed purposeful and somehow reverent, from listening to myself and others chewing our food, hearing the “music” of clinking dinner wear, to looking with intention at each kind of food on my plate. And the discussion during our last meal together was enriching, too.

Now and then whenever I have a chance to be alone during a meal, I sometimes ask myself this same question. Where did this nourishment come from? Who toiled to plant, harvest and deliver to market what’s on my plate right now? And how lucky I am to have the luxury of sitting here, in comfort, and to be able to ponder such things? So many people around the world are too busy for this question. They’re wondering where their next meal will come from, period.

Generally, I believe I am being honest when I say that I treat everyone I encounter with the same measure of tenderness. But, every now and then, and for different reasons, if I catch myself starting to feel short, agitated or annoyed with someone in my presence, I summon up the phase, as a mantra, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” If I can get this simple quote (attributed to Plato and others) between my heart and the person I am struggling with, it allows me to correct my thinking and improve the experience between myself and the person I am with.

My dear old friend, and fellow Quaker, Ruth Howland, who passed away some years ago now, remains to this day my greatest role model of honest contentment. She was bound to using a wheelchair the last fifteen years of her life, but throughout the limitations and pain she lived with daily, Ruth exuded a palpable glow of calm and gentleness about her seemingly each and every day. She lived some 1500 feet from the meetinghouse itself, and I enjoyed wheeling her to and from our Sunday meeting for worship service in all kinds of weather, which she enjoyed greatly. Ruth wore a plain, bright red knit stocking cap much of the year. I called it her “Pope’s” hat, which always made her laugh. Today, whenever I wear my own identical red cap, it makes me smile and think about Ruth, and that glow of calm she shared with us all.

Ha!, you’d appreciate this, Ed. One of my grandsons said to me recently, “Grampa, your profile pic (on my cell phone) doesn’t look like you any more.” I said, “You mean I look a lot older than that now?” He just giggled and walked away!

He was right. As a photographer, I have many photos of other people and few photos of myself, and I never think about upgrading the few that I have. Another staffer at a recent retreat that I was also staffing at took the pic during a group discussion, and I thought, now’s my chance to drag my rack of bones into the present digital world! Kids…they miss nothing!