A Hiding Place

The music playing in the background swims into my sense stream, joining the flurry of sensations. Memories from just a few moments ago to many many years ago flow in and out of each other molding into a thought stream of my life. Like the slow-mo version of your life flashing before your eyes. As I look forward, it causes me to look back.

As a child, when I was angry or upset or frustrated or sad, I would go to my closet. Because I'm the opposite of claustrophobic and small places make me feel safe, I'd bring as much in my closet with me as I could. And sometimes, after fuming or crying, or whatever I needed, I would fall asleep. I felt safe there.

That's when my parents took this picture.

I was probably seven or eight.

In my journey to become an adult, I think the scariest thing is the lack of a safe place. Everything is different - the places I live every year, the people I meet, the classes I take. What used to seem unchangeable now changes really, really fast.

There's a prayer in the service of Compline (prayers at the end of the day) from the Book of Common Prayer (Anglican Prayer Book) that reaches out to me: "Be present, O merciful God, and protect us through the hours of this night [or day], so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances in this life may rest in your eternal changelessness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. AMEN."

While I miss my childhood hiding place, I know that I really only feel safe about it because it's in the past. The problems I faced as a child, though minor, seemed big then. I hope the same is true for today, that though some things seem big, they will work out, some way or another, and I'll realize that I've always had safe places to turn.

What is your safe place?