I can't seem to help it my thoughts keep returning to this image of sanctuary. Sanctuary means so many different things depending on your experiences in life. It also is found in many different places. What would it mean to be a sanctuary?
I think of the woods and fall which was a sanctuary before my dad got so he couldn't walk from Parkinson's. it was our time together to explore, watch, learn, talk with the animals. Or the night sky where I experienced the first tastes of freedom from my abuser and could speak my thoughts freely. Or in Lui South Sudan when Maura took my hand in friendship. Or in the church when I was dead tired one Christmas during seminary from school and two jobs. I entered the sanctuary and fell on my knees because of the beauty of the crèche, the poinsettias, the lighting all granting my tired soul sanctuary.
I am reminded of all the different sanctuaries this week because of watching a woman get her first taste of freedom from an abuser. Of hearing a man lament the possible loss of his home and the reality of becoming homeless. Because of a young woman who felt beat up by the church because of incidents which happened to her.
What would happen to us if we took sanctuary seriously?
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