A Hiding Place

Where can one hide from the cares of this world? Truly escape from it all, the tough work, daily grind, grim news on television, political ads. When cars blast anxious horn while I wait to turn right on red light. Learning new work flows on computer, silently praying for foggy head to clear, for instruction to seep into nearing retirement-age brain. Pain continues and feet move forward, one step, one choice, one blessing received at a time. And the desire to rest in a cave like Elijah is extremely overwhelming. Hard times call for smuggling those moments that refresh spirit and restore even flow of breath. Quiet. Relax. Hibernate. Or in the case of a grandmother of toddler twin boys, hide in a Sesame Street Play Hut strategically placed in their bedroom. Oh what joy! Flat on their wee backs with happy grins, or peeking through flap of tent, all giggle and play. Through eyes of a child heavy sack of worries disappear like D.B. Cooper. One boy stands up and carries nylon tent on head, tripping, spilling over and the getting back up. The getting back up. That's the tough, rigorous part we play. More adventure to come, more hide-and-seek and staring at glistening stars, or Elmo's beet-red head. And more stumbling. Wobbly knees straighten again, sturdy, bolstered by God's creativity at awakening weary spirit. Cranking heartbeat up a notch. And maybe, like Elijah, the still soft voice awakens tired, fearful souls in unexpected ways after exiting the cave. I found a hiding place yesterday, in Elmo's tent and toddler boy's glee, breath returned, fluid and free, once again, God's sweet voice reigned on me.