That I'd be able to see that there is no somewhere where this will be easier. That an answer isn't going to be found somewhere out there. Somewhere where things are quiet. At a retreat. A getaway. A hiding place. But here with me. There is peace here with me. Here with me now is grace to be kind. Grace to be quiet. Grace to be. There's no where to go to where this peace will surpass understanding. Just the now. Just the here. Just the me and the You and all the in between happening driving up to madness. That the escape and hiding place rests now. Here. Within the loudness of toddler needy babble. Within the bickering of stir crazy too close siblings. Within the now where later is too late. Where here and now all things are chaos and noise and mess. Where the schedule is a restricting mental body bind and all things are sketchy and fuzzy and jumbled. And maybe if I close my eyes long enough and think that all the quiet and peace is at hand, set strongly within me, that the ability to be quiet, to be a comfort and not another stressor, and to be still and desire nothing but to be in the here and the now where there is need and comfort that abounds and abounds all the greater with my very desperate need, then that in the here and the now all that is grace and peace would fill in the frustration of my lack.