“Sometimes peace isn’t found in quiet places it’s found when you stop fighting the noise within.” — Treasurable

It’s a Sunday morning the kind of morning where silence feels sacred. The candle beside me dances softly, filling the air with a sweet floral aroma that reminds me of calm after a storm. Dinner’s already simmering, but my thoughts… they’re cooking too.

There’s something about Sundays that bring everything to the surface your heart, your hurts, your hopes. I find myself here, sitting on this couch, letting Xania Monet’s “The Price of Peace” play through the speakers. Every lyric hits different today. The line “the strong don’t get a break” lingers like a truth I’ve tried to outrun.

And isn’t that something? How music has a way of speaking the words you can’t form? How God seems to hear your cry before you even open your mouth becoming your personal DJ, spinning songs that match the rhythm of your emotions. Sometimes I laugh because it feels like God’s saying, “I know you’re trying to stay strong, but I hear you.”

As I exhale and let my shoulders fall, I realize this moment is more than reflection. It’s revelation. It’s me meeting myself again. The woman behind the words.
Treasurable.
The author, the survivor, the soul that turned her pain into poetry and her healing into purpose.

I’m not perfect I’m present.
I’m not fearless I’m faithful.
And I’m learning that peace has a price, one that costs your comfort, your silence, and sometimes even the people you love. But the beauty in the breaking is that through it all, you find yourself again softer, wiser, and finally free.

The Price of Peace

Peace didn’t come easy it came through tears,
Through long nights whispering prayers through fear.
It came in silence, where I found my voice,
It came when I had no other choice.

I laid down my anger, piece by piece,
Trading pain for purpose, war for peace.
I let go of battles that weren’t mine to fight,
And found myself standing, wrapped in God’s light.

Now I breathe softer, I love with intent,
Every heartbreak was heaven-sent.
For every scar, I’ve learned to see,
The strength, the woman the God in me.

Philippians 4:7 (KJV)-And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

As I sit here on this Sunday with the candle’s last flicker and the music fading into silence, I realize this peace is not the absence of storms, it’s the calm you choose while you’re still standing in the rain.

This journey my writing, my healing, my truth isn’t about perfection. It’s about permission. The permission to be real, to hurt, to grow, to heal out loud.

Behind every word you read from me, there’s a heartbeat that has known both chaos and calm. There’s a woman who’s still learning to forgive herself for the things she didn’t know, still thanking God for the things she survived.

So as this candle burns out, I remind myself and you that peace is a process. It’s choosing light even when your past still whispers darkness. It’s saying, “God, I don’t understand it, but I trust You anyway.”

Because at the end of it all, I am Treasurable not just the author behind the words, but the woman behind the healing. And this Sunday, I’m choosing to keep breathing, keep believing, and keep writing… because somewhere out there, someone needs these words just as much as I do.

Original Poem & Quote by Treasurable Life