I treasure having a safe place. My house, my room, my car; these were places I knew I could go to be alone, to feel secure in a world that doesn’t always protect me.
My idea of a safe place was rocked in August when my family’s house was damaged by a hurricane. I sat and watched as half the shingles blew from the roof, and worry filled my mind as leaks formed all over the house. Then hours later I was shaken again realizing the water damaged had caused the ceiling in our den to fall in.
I cannot explain the anxiety that fills my mind each time I remember that day. Each time it rains I cringe at the reminder of the day when my safe place was no longer my protection. I cannot explain what it feels like to have your safe place taken away, to no longer feel sheltered by the roof that once protected you from the wind and rain.
Since being on The World Race I have had to create a new safe place, knowing that we won’t be in any one place longer than a month, I decided my sleeping bag would be my safe place. To know after each long day I could come lay on my sleeping bag and put my headphones in was a relief.
Tonight my idea of a safe place was wrecked, again. I came back to the old restaurant we are using as our bedroom this month, to find the downpours throughout the afternoon had seeped through the roof onto my sleeping bag; my safe place. My mind once again began to race as I looked around and noticed several leaks throughout the room. I immediately felt unsafe for the first time since beginning the race. I began to panic trying to figure out where I could simply sit down and think through my thoughts, but there was nowhere, my safe place was wet.
I decided to look to my team for help, wondering how I could ever feel safe in this place again. I was reminded that the Lord has given me this feeling for a reason. I was reminded that there are thousands of children who sleep on the streets in this city each night, the most dangerous city in the world, and they have no safe place. They have no bed to call their safe place, and they most certainly don’t have a room to call their safe place. As this thought raced through my mind I began to feel selfish for wanting a safe place of my own when there are children here who have never had a safe place. Then I was reminded of words from a Phil Wickham song title “Safe:”
you will be safe in His arms
you will be safe in His arms
the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
this is the promise He made
He will be with always
when everything is falling apart you will be safe in His arms
The Lord is my safe place. He is always willing to open His arms to provide me with a place to feel secure. I can only hope to share His love with the children who do not have a safe place, because the Lord’s arms are the safest place I know.
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, My God, in whom I trust’” Psalm 91:1-2
AND check this out…
I sat my tent up a few days after the rain shower with the hopes of having a quiet place alone to spend time with the Lord. Now, if you continue reading Psalm 91 you will come to verses 9 and 10, which say:
“If you make the Most High your dwelling- even the Lord, who is my refuge-then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come to your tent.”
What?! I re-read the verse thinking I had read it wrong. But no, it actually says tent. The Lord has protection over my tent! It’s such a relieving feeling to know that the Lord has protection over something so small.
Lots of love from Honduras!
Caitlyn
