A Quiet Refuge

It seems I’ve always had a place set aside in my heart as my own “special place.” Always someplace I loved, one I could simply think of and be calmed. A spot I thought would always be there if I needed somewhere to go, if life became difficult. Even if I never really did it, never really flew away to that special place during a hard time, I knew it was there. Waiting. Ready. A refuge from whatever troubles I faced, mountainous or mundane.

When I was a little girl, that place was my Grandma’s house. As an adult, I know now that life in her home wasn’t always as perfectly peaceful as I perceived in my childish mind, but to me, everything became better in that house. We’d sing songs, play with the family dog, and eat the rare treat of peanut butter ‘n’ jelly served on Wonder bread with a soft, thick white paper towel. When I was a teenager, that place became my Grammie’s house in Alabama. It always seemed our trips to the South were perfectly timed to coincide with my most drama-filled teenage moments, and just being in that green, beautiful, slower-paced world always cleared my mind. Last summer, it was Colorado. My in-laws sweetly cared for the boys and I while John was in Iraq, in their beautiful mountain home, smoothing a balm on my weary heart. Now, I’d think I’ll add Gretchen’s home in Washington to that list of places that soothe and calm me. I could have just had John and the boys pack up and head up to that farm land, stayed there forever and been happy.

The reality is that I can’t be in any or all of those places all the time. I live here, now, day-to-day, and life isn’t always idealistic. It’s real, it’s normal, and any rough patches must be dealt with as they come, right alongside everything else.

But sometimes, in the quietness of the morning, my Father gives me a respite, there in the midst of it all.

Monday, March 23, 2009
7:10 AM

Troy is sleeping late today~he was up much of the night. I’d still be asleep too if I didn’t have another tiny little boy up, wanting snuggles and breakfast! So here he sits beside me, munching on Cheerios in his high chair, giggling and babbling. I sit, with coffee in hand, smiling back at him through sleepy mama eyes. Also, with Bible and journal open on the table, flowers clipped from the yard water-bathing in a thin vase, soft piano music over the stereo speakers.

Idealistic, yes, but it is real.

So is the hard stuff, but for now, the sweetness and quietness is real. A refuge from the craziness. A “filling up” done by You, Lord. Before I meet the day.

The day has continued and has, of course, proved itself just another normal day. One filled with good things, rough moments, training, coloring, meal-fixing, block tower building, diaper changing, husband-texting, phone calling, a mama who is not-so-good-feeling, laundry doing, toy cleaning. Next on the agenda is book reading, nap taking, exercising, dinner making.

Oh, wait, that would all come after the moment of needful discipline that just arose. Pardon me while I take advantage of that “filling up” from this morning to confront hitting, lying and disobeying.

A refuge doesn’t necessarily take away that which we’re escaping, it gives us a safe haven to rest and prepare, all while guarded and fought for by One stronger than we.