My Mom died in 2009. I miss her daily. We loved each other and were very close, and I’m aware that isn’t the reality in many families. She was diagnosed with colon cancer, and two weeks later, she was gone. Not gone exactly, but no longer on this earth plane. I was distraught when she died.

Having been taught about heaven, hell, and even an “in-between” place labeled purgatory when young, I was raised in a world where church every Sunday was a given, and I never questioned religion or spirituality until I was a mother myself. My thinking has evolved significantly. I do go to “church,” although my faith community doesn’t, at all, resemble the one I “belonged to” for the first 30 years of my life. I believe in God and an after-life where I will, again, see those I love who have gone before me. I have faith in the “other side” and acknowledge that the spirit world is a lot closer than above the clouds, and that brings me comfort and peace.

One early, heartbroken morning, not long after Mom’s death, as I made tea (a critical ingredient in her “let’s sit down and talk it out” recipe) in the kitchen that opens to the family room. I looked outside through the French doors; perched on a chair on the deck, not more than five feet from me, was an owl. Even though I’m a morning person, I thought maybe it was my imagination. I looked again. Nope, there was definitely an owl staring at me. I’m not an ornithologist by any means (although I did take a Biology of the Birds class in college), but based on my visits to our local zoo, I’m pretty sure she was a Barn Owl.

None of that matters, of course, because she was there. I turned around and saw The Owl Cookie Jar, one of the few things I have from my parents’ home, on a shelf behind me. I don’t remember when it didn’t sit on top of the refrigerator in the house they shared since I was a baby. It now stands in a place of honor on a shelf in my kitchen.

I turned back to the door. The owl was still there, perfectly still. We made eye contact one more time, then she flew off. I had never seen an owl on my property before then. I’ve never seen one here since then, either. I know that Mom was checking in, saying, “I’m okay, and I’m still watching out for you.” I broke down, of course, but the tears were born of peace, not sadness.

When I talk about Peace in Your Home, it’s not just when everything is going great. Those times are gifts, for sure, but there are bumps on the road of life for most people. Maybe you had a disagreement with your teenager or your partner. Perhaps you don’t feel like you’re on top of your game or even in the game. Maybe you’ve lost a job, a friend, or a great Mom. There aren’t too many things that we can simply “magic away.” But, with patience and faith, maybe we can at least find peace.

This is the cookie jar that’s been part of my life for over 50 years. It was Bea’s, now I cherish it. One day it’ll move on to the next generation and then the next.
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