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Dona Nobis Pacem ~ The Tundra Year
When we started peace globes in 2006, I wrote a post called The Silence of Peace about the influence of my beloved grandfather on my formative years and how he shaped the way I see the world. He's been gone a long time and I still miss him so much, but his words and actions live on through the peace globes that fly each year around the Internet world, requiring us to think about peace and what it means to us.
My mission was to see the words Dona nobis pacem (Latin for Grant us Peace) scrawled on the roughly 70 million blogs reported to exist at that time, just for one day. A simple idea of unity and intention. I was a naive new blogger, overly-ambitious, trusting in the goodness of people and the wisdom of goodness. My heart was full of expectation and joy.
Were there 70 million posts? No. But words hold power, whether seven or seventy. What happened over the years proved quality over quantity matters. We've become a lovely worldwide community of connected poets, writers and artists. When Blogging moved to many other social media platforms, the peace globes moved with them. And yet, each year, we find ourselves here again to blog for peace and share our thoughts with the world.
It's been my honor to speak peace with you all these years.
In the year 2025, I write to answer the question, 'What brings me peace?'
only to find that I've landed in the same truth. Full Circle.
Deep down on the inside of me I could feel it as I wrote it again. In 2006, I wrote about the day I first felt real peace in my life. And this year, it all came tumbling out on the blog page again, along with my tears - vivid memories, no abandon, no regret, now solidly entrenched in the core of this little blog movement. I wrote. You wrote. We all said the same thing from 214 countries and territories. Then came The Doll Box, river words, Papa's fedora and much much more.
So I honor my grandfather, my Papa, today.
Returning to the framework he built from day one, in my writer's eye I could see a wooden railing in a little country church, graced by the presence of a kneeling praying grandfather, who wore a white starched shirt and all the faith he had on his sleeve. I traveled back in time to a memory that is as clear and palpable today as it was in the 1970s and as it reappeared on this blog in 2006. What have I learned in twenty years? The.power.of.words.
One night he took me by the hand and led me to the altar with him.
He knelt down on one knee, elbow resting on the other, and silently voiced his heart. Tightly grasping my hand with his left hand, I knelt beside him, snuggled under the arm of his tweed jacket, surrounded by the presence of many such men who sought God that Fall revival night. In a country church in the middle of the middle of nowhere on a crisp autumn full moon evening, all of Heaven came to hear Papa and his friends talking to their Maker in worship and reverence.
They were surrendered.
I was mesmerized.
A buzz of spiritual language filled the room, groanings and cries, hallelujahs, amens, tears and pleas, laughter, joy, community. Then just as suddenly, and much louder ~ silence and stillness.
A Presence fell.
Is there anything more beautiful than a room full of true worshippers in unity, unashamed, locked in, gathered around a sacred wooden altar, holding court with God Almighty? I think not. I know not.
What a privilege it was to behold, to experience. My fourteen-year-old hippie-bent soul wanted more. From that day on, I ran after that feeling.
I felt the power, as undeniable as the appliqued flower-power daisy plastered to my jeans, as sweet as the smell of Papa's tobacco pipe-infused tweed coat, and as safe as the crook of his arm; the place where I loved to linger, where I learned to listen in the wee hours of a work morning as he gathered his things for the day, whispering "Dear Gracious Heavenly Father" as only a granddaughter can hear, as he lovingly lifted lyrics to Heaven on my behalf. They covered me. He covered me. Jesus covered both of us. Those words held connection to eternity. In turn, those utterings and unctions kept him reaching higher and higher. And I kept reaching for him.
Because he was the place of peace that I needed.
A place where his unconditional love yielded safety and calm.
A place where no separation exists.
He knew how to find it.
And I wanted it.
OVer the years he taught me how to find it by his example,
so that when he couldn't be with me, I could find it myself.
I know that Presence to this day, because Papa birthed it in me. He still holds my hand and I still hear his voice, rising and falling, gently squeezing my small fingers with each inhalation and nuance of prayer. Wherever the Spirit led him, I went too.
It was so holy I could barely breathe.
I've spent this entire year deliberately inserting myself into that space again. Distractions have plagued me, physical struggles have been challenging, sickness and stress. The toll on my mind and body has been significant. This has been a year of pain and falling down, only to rise and fall again, reaching for that space of quiet and strength.
I call it The Tundra Year -
a long cold winter of the soul and a short cool summer.
And yet....inside of me an arsenal of weaponry appeared, quite boldly, and firmly at my disposal. It smelled of wooden benches and tobacco tweed.
By the bedside on my knees, gently walking in the forest, weeping with frustration, calling on my Maker, hunkering down into healing Scriptures, studying remedy and science, writing, angry whining, falling again, questioning, rising and starting over.
Has your faith ever been tested in the fire? This was my year.
Then one day, just as surely as winter snow creates new intricate patterns on leaves in the forest,
a renewing of my mind fiercely began.
But it wasn't easy. The process caught up to my jagged wonky physical complexities and made the battle more intense for awhile. Like a flash of dangerous lightning attempting to disguise itself inside thunder, once more it tried to sap my strength and make me weak.
I began to say it. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong.
I began to believe it. I began to walk in it. I stopped falling down.
Until I landed in the Grace that had been there all along.
I am on a healing journey. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong!
My journey of faith and prayer and peace began at that altar of supplication in the 70s, where I witnessed what it is, what it looks like, what it sounds like, what it feels like to focus energy and love and compassion with all your might before a Mighty Creator.
Likewise, we focus energy and love and peace and compassion with all our might on the world we share on the cusp of each November.
I am strong. I am strong. I am strong.
You must believein the power of your words. Say something. Speak right things over yourself, your family and your world. See yourself healed. See the world healed. Pray for your neighbors and your enemies. Lift your thoughts to a higher realm, where peace and rest is not only possible but expected.
Papa expected the world to change when he prayed.
So do I.
There is no other option.
Where's your altar?
Does your heart flow from there?
"Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter." (Psalm 74.17)
My Tundra has been no difference or worse than most everyone on the planet this year. This verse gives me courage. Papa would approve.
Why did he feel compelled to pull me to the altar with him that night? Why did he hold on so tight, forming an unbroken chain between my hand, his hand, and God's hand? It remains.
His act of love nd obedience changed the course of my life. In that moment I found God's peace for the first time in my life. Transfer. Synergy. Life-altering, Truth. Only Divine LOVE does that.
I still believe in the power of words as has been our motto for twenty years. I believe in the collective power of intention. I believe in you as you speak Dona Nobis Pacem one more time into the atmosphere. One voice. One subject. One day.
Happy 20th anniversary, Dear Peace Bloggers!
What started from a bowl of Papa's earth marbles has gathered writers and artists from all walks, religions and backgrounds speaking into each other and for our troubled world, just as Papa spoke his prayers and love into me. In summer. And in cold dark winters.
Powerful words spoken in love must make a difference ..... breathing and birthing and shaking and sifting towards change - in our own hearts first, where it always begins- until we reach the dawning of a new peace-laden world for everyone.
God speed that day and God bless each and every one of you.
All 2025 Blog4Peace participants! Leave links below and in the comments.
NOTE: 2024 links are included in this widget as well!
on a myriad of social media platforms including Facebook, X (Twitter), Instagram and beyond! Wherever you are online, you can join our talented community for this annual worldwide event. We are represented on every continent and country in the world.
This is our 18th year of peace blogging.
Whether you choose to Blog4Peace or Post4Peace,
it's the same community and it's all good!
Bloggers and social media posters from all across the globe
will blog and post for peace
NOV 4-5, 2023
Our 2023 Theme is
"Change the Room"
The transforming power of walking in peace
Created by graphic artist Ann Adamus @ Zoolatry
Last year we wrote about FREEDOM and how that privilege is entwined with PEACE. We said No Freedom No Peace. You were amazingly insightful and bold from all corners of the Earth. We talked about how to GET FREE in the midst of unwanted invasion (personal or global).
This year we're turning inward and moving outward. Let me explain.
This is my challenge to you
Imagine what would happen if instead of trying to find peace, we walked in with it?
What if we simply carried it in?
What if we were the peace everyone else was searching for?
What if we expected the room to change when we entered?
Don't you think it would?
Why can't we be the water and the well?
When I was a little girl I watched my Papa change atmospheres all the time.
It was as effortless as changing his hat.
People acted differently when he was around. You never heard loud voices or cursing or strife when he was in the room; they respected him too much.
What he carried was palpable.
I've spent a lifetime trying to follow his example, trying to understand where that power came from, then founded an accidental peace movement from a ragged bag of his dusty marbles. Decades later they came to life in the story that became Dona Nobis Pacem for all of us in 2006. It was only then that I knew his uncanny penchant for atmosphere shifts was no accident at all.
Years later he is STILL transforming that wide-eyed little girl
STILL transforming all of us.
A bowl of marbles and one person
His quiet unconditional love
changed rooms, changed atmospheres, changed me, changes you
Still.
What you carry is palpable.
HOW you carry it alters the atmosphere you're in
You either change the atmosphere
or the atmosphere changes you
Maybe if we all learn how to change the room we could collectively change the world.
We have called attention to the absence of what we want. Instead of focusing on the absence of peace, why don't we just walk in with it like we own the planet?
Because. we. do.
Maybe I was a bit naively ambitious in 2006 when I asked you to change the world and expected a peace globe to magically appear on 70 million blogs. Today there are 1.9 BILLION websites worldwide; of those, 600 MILLION blogs. Apparently, we're still expecting to make a dent in the atmosphere because, after all, we're still here.
So walk in like you own it.
Because. you. do.
The planet is groaning for peace and stability and the world is watching how you carry yourself.
We are not the ones to fall down or offer tired platitudes. We are not the ones!!
If that's who we are, if that's ALL we are, then I'm out right now.
I'm about to make a bold statement!
THIS YEAR you will write words that transform. And nothing less.
You will draw and paint and sing and created from a place of clear knowing! This will be the most powerful year of peace posts we've ever seen.
From the moment you set your pen to paper, you will feel it. It will happen in you. How do I know?
Because you've been peace blogging for many many blog years and you just happened to walk right past me a time or two.
I caught it then and I sense it now.
So tell us. Tell us how you do it.
You will write stories of how you walked on seeming hot coals unscathed in the past year.
. When all seemed lost and you wanted to give up, you prevailed. When your body and spirit grew weary and the challenges seemed more than you could bear, you prevailed. .
Someone out there needs to hear that story.
We don't change the world or the room by ourselves.
! Does that make sense? No worries. I was shocked to see that they had stolen my meme (shocked!) from way back in the day. Just kidding. It's what they do. That's why it's called Sunday Stealllliiinngggg. So. I shall play the meme I wrote from my blog called The Queen's Meme - although these questions are a mishmash of romance and groceries. I have no idea who really wrote the first seven or number 14. I like to play tongue-in-cheek. Buckle up. Thanks Bev.
1. What do men really want in a woman?
That's like asking, "What do fish really want from the ocean?"
Who wrote these questions??!
2. Should marijuana be legalized?
Absolutely
3. Why did the cow jump over the moon?
To get to the pot store.
(I can't believe I said that)
4. What do women really want in a man?
That's like asking, "What does the ocean really want from fish?"
Who wrote these questions?!
5. When you are having a really good day, what usually makes it good?
A day at the river with Beans.
6. What can make your good day turn into a bad day?
If we fall off a rock and plunge into the river. I can't swim.
7. If you could start from scratch and turn back the clock for a re-do, what would you re-do? I would major in Music Therapy instead of Music Education.
8. Do you make a list when you go grocery shopping?
No. I make a grocery list BEFORE I go shopping.
9. Do you buy more groceries when you're hungry?
I buy more EVERYTHING when I'm hungry.
Just ask Amazon.
10. Coupons. Use them?
Yes Yes and YES!
11. Have you ever complained to the manager of your grocery store?
The day I found expired dates on my precious keylime yogurt.
Alas, I had to buy blueberry instead.
12. Do you like to buy groceries at huge chain stores like Walmart? Or do you shop exclusively at food stores?
I don't like to buy food at Walmart. I want a real food store with better sanitary conditions for groceries. The vegetables are left out in the bins hardly ever misted and washed. The watermelons are never fresh. Yuck.
13. What do you typically have for lunch?
Salad. Protein. More salad.
14. Tell us about your last lunch date and what made it special.
I met an old friend and colleague for lunch in town. We taught together for twenty years on the same hallway. Oh, if those walls could talk! I just hope the security camera footage has long been destroyed.
I've been saying this every year on this blog for the last one hundred years. In the interim...wars have started and ceased. The cosmos went backwards in time and came around again. Three presidents have passed by...and passed on. God rest their souls. And Twitter was bought by Mickey Mouse. The jury is still out on that one.
Homer baked a birthday cake for me KNOWING I can't eat cake. I wonder what's in this lovely strawberry concoction? I hope it's just strawberries with no evil sugar. Thank you Homer!
Meanwhile I am enjoying the once-a-year attention on Facebook. Birthday wishes are the BEST part of that platform. Thank you!!! They make me smile and I love sending birthday wishes to my friends.
And still is it NOT my birthday.
I know it is not my birthday because I have yet to use color on my natural brunetteness. I will not be one of those women who embrace the grays and let them flow freely. Nothing wrong with that, but I don't think I'll join the party.
So far. So good.
I know it is not my birthday because no one in the "real" royal family has bothered to send a greeting. The day is young. I'm still waiting.
I know it is not my birthday because I can still wear a baseball cap and a pencil skirt, although my French nails are beginning to fall off when I'm stressed. I wonder if I should talk to my doctor about that.
And lastly, I know it is NOT my birthday because FINALLY those pesky "Sign up for Social Security" commercials have stopped coming in the mail. I did that last year. It takes an Act of Congress to get that little red, white and blue card. Now that I'm past-the-age-of-knowing-better I feel free to know better.
Does that make sense?
I didn't think so.
Well. Thanks for stopping by. I'm going to make a virtual appointment with my doctor about those nails. Last visit she said she didn't want to discuss my makeup, eyeliner, pedicures OR my Internet dog and his health problems.
