There is a chair in my room that I land in most mornings for my devotion time. I get up when the house is still quiet, kids are asleep and my husband has already left for work. It’s just me, with my Bible and my devotional. During that time, I lay everything else down at His feet. I feel safe to unload the burdens I have been carrying, the weight that’s felt heavy on my back. I scribble it out in broken sentences across lined paper.
In that chair, I am not a mother, a wife, a therapist, an executive director… I am just a child at the feet of my Father. A child who is pouring out my fears, worries and frustrations. A child who is looking for guidance. A child who is confessing my wrongs. A child who is searching for the next step in my path. A child who is ashamed, afraid and full of doubt.
I don’t sit in that chair alone. My father meets me there each morning. He listens. He calls me by my name. He comforts. He forgives. He teaches. He picks up all the things I sling at his feet and chucks them to the deepest place of the ocean.
Funny thing is I keep showing up each day, with the same things. I keep bringing back to His feet what He has already buried in that ocean. But even when it is the same stuff, He listens. Even when it is the same mistakes I make, He forgives. Even when it is the same unhealthy patterns I fall into, He guides me. Even when I come with the anger at Him that He doesn’t deserve, He calls me by name and tells me He loves me.
That chair, that morning time, those lines on the paper……they are my safe place. He is my safe place. I will keep meeting Him there because I desperately need the safety He gives me.
