I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings. Psalm 61:4 NIV
It’s a lazy summer afternoon and I’m allowing myself to embrace the luxury of a little stroll down memory lane. My musing takes me to the very middle of my life when, as a single mom, I was a manager at a camping resort in south-central Missouri. My daughter and I began this sojourn living in our small camper but then moved into housing on the premises. Our home was a restored- hundred-twenty-five-year-old log cabin, built originally in the dogtrot style commonly found in the Ozarks. It consisted of two rooms with a covered walkway in between. That walkway had been transformed into an entry hall and full bathroom, the kitchen updated for modern living, and two bedrooms along with a bath were added to one end. It was a very comfortable home for the two of us and the resort was a great place to raise a child. We had access to a clear, beautiful river for swimming, canoeing, and tubing. The horseback riding trails provided hours of entertainment, and we could enjoy hayrides and movies along with our camping guests when space was available. Jenny had no shortage of friends, from some of those aforementioned camping guests who were often short-term friendships, to her schoolmates and our neighbors who added consistency to our lives. We were truly blessed by our natural surroundings and the folks there who became our extended family and always watched over us.
Jeni was typically very active around the resort, jumping rope, playing hopscotch, and engaging in lots of little girl activities. Our staff and guests marveled at how long she could continue jumping and she was usually willing to entertain them. But every now and then, she
needed to get away from everything and everyone. She’s still that way. The first time she disappeared, I became a little frantic. Okay, I was more than a little frantic. Just as I was about to really fall off the deep end, the resort owner happened to look out her window and saw Jenny sitting on a tree branch alongside the stream that flowed behind her house. A quick call assured me my daughter was fine and that my boss would keep a close watch over her. That was to be the first of many trips to the tree. Jenny had found her safe spot, tucked away from all the people and busyness of the park right beside that beautiful flowing stream. It became her thinking tree and the place she sought when something troubled her. I always knew where she would be, and my boss and I communicated regularly regarding her presence there to ensure her safety, but we never invaded her space.
Taste and see that the Lord is good. Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him! Psalm 34:8
Eventually, she realized that we knew where her safe space was, but it remained just her place for as long as we lived there. Now that she’s an adult with her own daughter, she still loves to be near flowing water and so do I. It gives each of us a sense of peace and constancy, a place of reassurance that envelopes us in the wonder of creation and an opportunity to disconnect from the craziness of life and just bask in the quiet of the moment. In the quiet we find comfort. It becomes a safe space because it reminds us of God’s never-ending provision, both physically and spiritually.
Today, Ken and I have a safe room in our garage designed to protect us from destructive storms, and I’m really glad we have it. But I know that the safest place to be is always in the loving arms of God and that can happen anywhere I am because He is always with me. Where is your safe space?
Be still and know that I am God. Ps 46:10
