Tuesday, June 20, 2017

oh, the places you will go..


                                   
Safe spaces, that's a constant theme when college kids are faced with a challenging thought or two.Where can I go and hide? I actually think that this response is probably the first one when confronted with danger.If a bear were chasing me, I would look for a huge carved out log and crawl inside.Wouldn't you ?Ah, a safe place.
I have a wonderful postcard of a hero's safe space,  Rob Roy's cave on Loch Lomond in Scotland: one can see the cleft in the jagged rocks where he would slip in and wait. Safe.

When I was a kid, riding on the U.S.S. Chaos with my four family members, I found a way to escape. I so enjoyed going to bed because there, in my mind, I entered a place I called 'thinkland" where I was in charge and could have anything I wanted. As I type this, I see how important it must have been for a shy, powerless, unworthy girl to have some control. In Thinkland, I steered the ship and all came to me at my beck and call. I would go into a large house and each room was filled with anything I desired. It was organized by room. Exquisite fabrics in one; silk, gold and red, satin yellow and blue, mauve gauzy material, all mine to play with and feel.That for some reason was my favorite. Other rooms with perfect colorful gems, all for me. Bright red rubies, gorgeous sparkling purple amethysts, diamonds to wear, turquoise rings.  .Any jewel that I could imagine belonged to me. Those are the two rooms I remember. Perhaps another held hundreds of dollhouses or another, Nancy Drew books.A room with beautiful music playing. Oh, the pleasure of walking from room to room in my thoughts.

I wonder now if this wasn't a form of prayer, as shallow as it seems.Now that I pray for the desires of my heart, wasn't "thinkland" a trip there? Was I lead to do this musing by a benevolent Spirit who knew that I needed some brightness in the haze of sadness all around? I think so and what's more, as I reflect back, there was much beauty sustaining me that at the time I took for granted.

I will now add them to the house.:

A room full of pale purple lilacs that grew next to the house that never failed to produce blossoms whose scent would make a marble statue swoon.
A side porch of Lily of the Valley that grew by the front door whose scent transported .
A front stoop with of a passel of good kids, friends, who never failed to bring the enjoyment of sports and the joy of laughter.
Azaleas, red, orange, white all clustered around the front to the house, never failing to appear in May.
A room where faith was taught that gave hope in the dismal times.A radio program called, I Heard the Master Speak.

Our thoughts are heard, our prayers are heard and we are loved and lifted beyond measure and the only response can be, Deo Gracias.

Art -Fairy Land-Tom Anholt







1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Today's posting...so courageous in revealing more of yourself through safe places, memories full of flowers, best of all, your comment that "our thoughts (our prayers) are heard" - always...all delightful reading, merci!
....humbly.....a surprise awaits you on my blog, smile.