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Peace Begins With Us

Peace Begins With Us

Last updated on: April 27, 2015 at 8:19 pm by Kristy Robinett

Peace Begins With Us 2015-04-27T20:19:33-06:00 Kristy Robinett

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

“You can call me Jolly,” the spirit smiled brightly at me from the side of the bed, sitting on the windowsill that looked over the sprawling green fields.

It had only been a few hours before that we drove what felt like five miles up the dirt path to the plantation house. The moss oak greeted us. It was if each tree stood tall with its own story to share. On either side was the old slave quarters, in horrible disarray.

“The slave cemetery in back”, I whispered.

“How do you know?” Chuck slowed the car down trying to peek around the white ruins.

A look was all that needed to explain it.

The sun was quickly setting over the marshy lake and we hoped to check in with a bit of daylight to explore the grounds.

“Now watch yourself along the pathway by the lake, there are gators. The small ones are more like puppies and are just curious,” the caretaker drawled. “The larger ones, well don’t mess with ‘em.”

As if on cue a large burp came from the nearby water.

The caretaker took us to our rooms housed in the North Guest House, turning the lanterns on to light our way. The kids took the one room with two beds while Chuck and I took the room across the hall with the king size bed, both decorated in white French toile linens.

“I don’t like your room, mom,” Micaela confessed. “There’s something about it that feels…heavy.”

I took a few deep breathes and psychically checked out both rooms only to get an all clear from my guides.

Chuck and I unpacked as the kids explored, flashlights in hand. It wasn’t long before they ventured back and we decided we were more hungry than curious and so we trekked back down the long path to the main road to hunt for pizza.

A full belly, a hot shower and a comfortable bed was all too convincing to call it an early night. It couldn’t have been ten minutes after shutting my eyes when Jolly showed up for a visit. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that I could see him or that I was even there. It was as if he was even expecting us.

“Can I help you cross over? Is there something you need my help on?” I asked him, stuttering a bit.

“No, Ma’am.”

I looked at him, confused. Jolly threw his head back and laughed the deepest laugh I’d ever heard. I looked over at my husband who incredibly was still sleeping soundly. “Did you work here?” I asked, already knowing the answer, but I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. And I was tired and really just wanted to get to the bottom of the visit.

“I did, Ma’am. I was the leader here for many, many years. This was my home.”

I sat up on my pillow and looked at him. “Home? You were enslaved, right? Was it horrible?”

“It was all I knew. All we knew. I hold no ill regrets.”

“So why are you still here?” I asked, still confused.

“Because it’s home and I’m still the caretaker,” Jolly simply explained.

“Isn’t it time to find peace?”

“I’m at peace, but I’m afraid that the world isn’t”

“What about justice? What about that?” I asked.

“Seeking justice creates more sin. Peace creates more peace.”

I sighed and agreed. I realized he was speaking of something completely different than I was, but it seemed to be eerily relate to what was happening in current news.

“Peace,” Jolly began. “Peace happens when you forgive, whether deserved or not. Most of all peace happens when you realize you deserve peace.”

Jolly and I spoke for some time, along with another lady he introduced as Franny. The next morning my family and I went to the slave cemetery and paid our respects. Jolly simply nodded a hello to me, with a big jolly smile on his face in thanks.

As my family and I boarded an airplane for home, the Baltimore riots aired on every television set. I couldn’t help but think that if someone who was enslaved for decades could go into the afterlife with peace, well, I could only hope.

“Every experience, no matter how bad it seems, holds within it a blessing of some kind. The goal is to find it”

Buddha

Believe,

Kristy Robinett

www.kristyrobinett.com

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