“I have an ice-breaker for you. Tell us about your safe place you had as a child.”

We were in our small group, gathered at a friends house and seated around the living room. I sunk back into the deep leather sectional and realized that I couldn’t remember that far back. My first internal reaction was that I don’t have many positive memories from my past. As each person described their safe places, I perused the memory files in my brain. I tried to tiptoe through my memories, trying not to disturb and awaken anything I’d rather not recall. I listened as the others described their neighborhood, their friends houses, and their playgrounds as their safe places. Finally, it was my turn, and instantly I remembered the place I felt safest as a child.

Source

The room was buried deep in the building. Down the stairs, in the basement, it was the last room at the end of the hall. The smell of old magazines and books, musty and perhaps even moldy, permeated the air. It was the room where all the old resources were kept-magazines dating back to the beginning of last century and piles of books that no one cared about.

This was a safe place.

Stacks and stacks of books and plenty of places hide, my local public library was my haven growing up. My mother worked there so I spent countless hours browsing and reading. When I was old enough to volunteer, I helped out the children’s librarian. Conveniently, she was also a children’s book author with whom I enjoyed talking about all her books. When I was even older and could get a job, this library was my first place of employment.

I loved the quiet, and being surrounded by so much that stimulated the mind and the imagination. Everything else in my life was loud, chaotic, and sometimes frightening. This place I knew was quiet and safe.

I came to know exactly where every book was located. Most of them I checked out and read at home, staying up late into the night. Mysteries, fiction, non-fiction, biographies, literature, poetry-all food for my starving mind and heart. Emily was right when she described a book as a frigate, taking us lands away. In my reading, I visited places I’ll never see, shared emotions with imaginary people who understood me, and solved all the problems in the world in mere hours of reading.

I loved checking in the books in the office and putting them back on the shelves. I especially loved having to go all the way into that dimly lit room in the basement where people seldom ventured. Putting away or retrieving old resources was an infrequent job but one I treasured. And the quiet, oh the quiet in that place…

Library Stacks

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God found me even behind the stacks of shelves. He found me hiding out from the world and wishing I could bring all my things, making a nest in the back corner, by the window, next to the 200′s. I always looked at each book before shelving it, a potential world to visit I suppose. In the 200′s I found a number of books that brought the encouragement and hope my adolescent soul needed. Other than the Bible, I had few books of my own at home which were authored by Christ-followers. It was here that I found and read a book by Billy Graham, then one by Joni Earekson Tada, followed by nearly every book in the Christianity section of the library.

During those years, I gathered quotes and scriptures from those books and began filling a journal. Late, in the quiet of the night, I opened that journal and read and re-read the scrawled words of hope. It was those words, hand-copied from borrowed books, that got me through the deep, dark days of adolescence that I learned much later was depression.

God provides us safe places, refuge from storms. And then He meets us there. My favorite name of God is “Strong Tower,” described in Psalm 61. It’s in these places of safety where He finds us, quiets our hearts, and heals our wounded souls.

Friends who know me well joke about the number of books I own and the fact that I am usually reading six or seven books at one time. Yet books have always been part of my safe place. It was in a place full of books where God found me and showed me that He was my true Safe Place.

What safe places have you had in your life?

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11 Comments

  1. What a great tribute to (my favorite place as well) the public library! It’s not where I found God, but it was certainly a constant safe place for me as well! Hugs to you.
    Love,
    the other one

  2. Ao glad you had that place of refuge and that He met you there! A safe place? How is it that that’s such a scary question? Like you,it’s not safety that comes to mind when I look back at childhood….

    But after thinking about it, I’d say that the safe place for me would be laying on my back in the grass looking into the clouds, the vastness of the expanse of the sky that tells me there must be One who is far greater than all the terror. And also, the ocean, the roar of the waves that pulse of His power, the same vastness and magnitude as I look out to the horizon and the sky that is reflected on it, there has to be One who created all this! And then to later learn that this One loves me and cares for me like no other.

  3. Amen and Amen…God will find us anywhere and He is our safe place.
    Keep up the God work.

  4. What a beautiful story of God taking you to a place that would cultivate so much in your heart. And your story reminded me of how a library feels. It is a safe, sacred space. My safe place was my grandparents home. Everything predictable, secure and loving in my otherwise insecure childhood with a bi-polar, alcoholic single mother. God provides places of rescue for us, even in libraries.

  5. Oh you warmed my heart. Love this.
    Yes. God provides places of refuge for us, doesn’t He. Even where we least expect it to be. I was blessed to have a few growing up. Ones I needed at certain times. And you’re right. He always showed up. He is a Strong Tower indeed!

    All for Him,
    Nikki

  6. Thanks for sharing your safe place.

  7. My safe place actually was a closet with a flashlight and good book. I was the eldest of five so it was a place to hide and enjoy my book.

  8. Oh, Christina, I can relate to not wanting to awaken old feelings. I’m in the surrounding storm (haven’t mustered the courage yet to enter “the eye”) and I frankly do not know if I had a safe place. Perhaps my best friend’s house but it wasn’t something I could call my own. What a haven - the library! I’ve always loved books but the true passion didn’t come alive until I began to homeschool. Now I too immerse myself in books, several at once. I’ll keep searching my heart to see if I in fact had a safe place…I know it’s buried in there somewhere. Thank you for sharing your heart!

  9. My heart breaks, hearing that you had scary places in your life. I’m glad you found a sense of security among all those words. And that love for words has carried through these years.

    You’re a gift, friend. All…gift.

  10. I love that your first safe place was the library!
    And I love that all those tax dollars was spent and brought you to Jesus!
    AWESOME!

  11. I too love books and the library , it is a serene and peaceful quiet place . I traveled far lands and places and imagined being part of so many stories ,I still find the library one of the best places to be, Now i take my mum and my grand daughter i encourage her to read and love books , for my mum its good helps her to remember as she forgets a lot . my favorite as i was growing up were the series the secret 5 , i would hide in a quiet place at home and imagine solving the mysteries with them and felt safe there , thanks for sharing this

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