Safe Harbor

Sanctuary. The word echoes through sleepy corridors of my mind as I walk Kai early one morning. The cooler night delivers a foggy mist that hangs heavy in the air; the birds sing regardless. I marvel at tiny flowers stubbornly growing right next to carelessly discarded soda cans and candy wrappers. Beauty without regard for its surroundings. Sanctuary; again the thought reverberates within, even though I'm miles from the nearest stained glass window and my surroundings aren't exactly serene as the morning rush of traffic pulses just a block away on College Road.
I dig into definitions when I get home, after refilling my coffee cup and starting a pot of water to boil. It's an oatmeal-with-buttered-toast kind of morning. The boys dump out the entire collection of legos and another day of construction begins. The dictionary defines 'sanctuary' as a place of refuge or safety. A haven, or harbor. This last word grabs me, my lightbulb moment as 'harbor' comes to life in my mind.
I see the little boat tossed carelessly by monstrous waves, whipped by the wind, utterly lost in a storm. I can taste the fear, salty and desperate, with eyes glued to the horizon in search of land. Sanctuary, indeed, taking the form of a narrow escape. A storm weary sailor finally makes it ashore, giving thanks for solid, dry ground under shaky, waterlogged feet. Safety; a place of refuge.

We haven't lived smack dab in the middle of a city since our first year of marriage and we've never attempted apartment life before this summer. To give you a (slightly ridiculous) idea of the adjustment this is: we've never needed to walk our dog on an actual leash before and we are complete rookies when it comes to being equipped with those poop-scooping baggies! We've been completely spoiled with acreage and mountain ranges, and have even lived in several spots with backyard access to a body of water. So we are doing our best to learn the art of life in a city and make the most of our adventure in a third floor apartment!
The boys are working on being 'good neighbors' to those around and below us; refraining from excessive power slamming of the floor and not yelling like ninja warriors as they run down the hall fully clad in superhero garb. It's difficult not being able to simply send our adventurers outside on their own throughout the day to run, dig, and explore. It's a workout trekking up and down three flight of stairs for what feels like the hundredth time (but is realistically probably just the 11th.. today).
For the first time in a very long time, I have to be intentional about the locking of our car doors. And, upon his arrival at our front door, Derek occasionally discovers the house keys still dangling from the lock on the outside. I'm blaming this learning curve on SMK (small town kid) syndrome. Of course, my self diagnosis is entirely fabricated! But this way of life is entirely different than any of our previous chapters; the learning curve includes both excitement and frustration. And in the midst of it all, I continue to hear these quiet whispers about 'sanctuary' which, at first glance, don't quite match my current surroundings. God is revealing His presence in ways I would not have been able to comprehend had I lived my whole life in the wide open spaces.

The boys and I cross busy streets without incident (thanks to 'crosswalk etiquette 101' which became mandatory after our first few days of city life) for long walks and bike rides on the winding trails of the University nearby. Most frequently requested activity of late is batting practice in an abandoned parking lot backing up to our apartment building, and we may or may not let Kai roam leash-free over there. We laugh as we talk about how we will actually miss that area when we move on from this home; we had no idea of the treasures it would hold for our family, the hours of fun it would provide.
City life is traffic jams, parking meters, and graffiti you desperately hope your kids don't inquire about. City life is also delightfully easy access to splash pads on hot days! It's parks and playgrounds promptly labeled 'more epic' than any we've ever monkeyed around on, and an impressive variety of ice cream shops all begging to be sampled. In the midst of an entire city's rushing to-and-fro and the congestion of traffic and noise, we are finding unexpected, unconventional sanctuaries. And I sincerely hope we contribute a bit of joy to our fellow apartment dwellers with the chalk drawings we leave on every sidewalk and the excessive amount of bubbles floating down from our porch. 

Just as beauty can grow regardless of who will see it or how ideal its surroundings; a haven can be found amidst chaos. In fact, I don't think the little vessel pictured in my mind's eye would appreciate that safe harbor nearly as much if the storm had not been raging all around. Nothing about our life here in North Carolina is a guarantee right now and that has me feeling a bit like a vessel at sea, facing the waves of unknowns and decisions that seem far too complex to simply 'make'. Because of this, I dig deeper still, longing for greater understanding of Sanctuary that meets me where I am. As this season continues to require one step of faith after another, I lean more fully into the God who doesn't require my figuring it all out but, rather, offers peace in the midst of my mess and walks patiently beside me.

It's another morning, and I am reading Psalm 65. Verse 7 with its storm reference catches my attention, 'You quieted the raging oceans with their pounding waves...' Ready to dig in, I follow the cross reference to Matthew 8:26-27 'Jesus responded, "Why are you afraid? You have so little faith!" Then he got up and rebuked the wind and waves, and suddenly there was a great calm. The disciples were amazed. "Who is this man?" they asked. "Even the winds and waves obey Him!" ' The trail continues as the cross reference for that verse leads me to Psalm 107:25-30 where things get a little more interesting.
'He spoke, and the winds rose, stirring up the waves. Their ships were tossed to the heavens and plunged again to the depths; the sailors cringed in terror. They reeled and staggered like drunkards and were at their wits' end. "LORD, help!" they cried in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress. He calmed the storm to a whisper and stilled the waves. What a blessing was that stillness as he brought them safely into harbor!' 
Of course we know that God controls the seas and it only makes sense that if He can calm them, He can also stir them up. But I see it in new light this morning, quite possibly because of all the 'sanctuary' whispers of late. I don't think we like to dig too deep into the fact that His voice might be the one stirring up waves in our life, allowing us sailors to arrive at 'wits' end' so that crying out for His help becomes the obvious best choice!
(I do believe storms in our life may also be the result of natural consequence put into motion by our own sinful choices. They may also be an attack of the Enemy. But those storms are an entirely different blog post. My point is that I don't believe anything touches my life without the Father allowing it. If that was possible, He wouldn't be sovereign. Also, another post for another day.)

Honestly, when things go exactly as planned, are we as likely to spend as much time on our knees as we do when everything is falling apart? Hopefully we are all working in this area, intentionality and consistency of seeking His direction for our days regardless of circumstances. But, I'll be honest, I know in my own life it's been the seasons of difficulty, unknowns and in-betweens that have brought me to my wits' end and pushed me much closer to Him.
Like those sailors, coming to the literal end of our wisdom and realizing our massive inability to hold it all together should makes us cling to Him for dear life. Of course, it would've been nice for all the pieces of our latest transition to fall together perfectly. But not only is that unrealistic (oh, 'adulting'), He knows it's not the best way to keep me in consistent, intentional communication with the Master of the seas!! God wants me to cry out for His help and sometimes that means stirring up the waters around me, reminding me of my complete lack of control.
And so I continue to dig and confirm that 'sanctuary' is not location specific: no acreage required! It's found in a humble willingness to acknowledge His work in the midst of our storms; eyes ready to glimpse the beauty only He can bring from what we may have already labeled a ship wreck. When we acknowledge that God can speak in ways we might not expect, sanctuary takes the form of Him being our safe place, regardless of the situation. And we can choose to give thanks for His mercies that are, indeed, new even on the stormiest of mornings.
I trust the God that enables beauty to grow through cracks in the sidewalk and works through the wind and waves to bring peace. I believe He is meeting my family in the midst of city life with glimpses of clarity, a deeper trust in His timing, and an entirely new category of 'adventure'! He will also meet you where you're at today, my fellow sailors. And, even water-logged and shaky, may we each declare with the psalmist, 'What a blessing was that stillness as he brought them safely into harbor!'