Did
you ever have that place as a kid that was just your special place? Probably
not somewhere the adults in your life would even want to go, but you loved it
because you could make it your own? Many of us enjoyed building forts as kids,
whether it was with chairs and blankets, treehouses, or cardboard boxes that we
called home. I find it amusing that kids seem to be attracted to small spaces.
I see this all the time with the little girl I nanny for. I’ll come out of the bathroom
and she’ll be nowhere in sight, and when I start calling her name she’ll answer
in that muted voice and I know she has squished her little body into some tight
space, like a kitchen cabinet or crowded closet and is having the time of her
life just being able to do that.
Kids
are so creative—with their innovative thoughts on how to make a cardboard box a
personalized home, or a space ship or a car, which is more common among boys. I
just love the creativity and personality that is displayed through this kind of
play, and I actually think it says a lot about our potential as artistic and
inventive people, created in THE Artist’s, Creator’s, Musician’s, Dancer’s, and
Inventor’s image.
I
was just remembering last night that when I was ten my brother, my cousin who
was living with us at the time, and I used to go almost every day down to this
little tiny cubby room in our garage, a space under the stairs. It was our
special secret place, and we definitely made it our own. Almost every day we
would come up with something more to add to our little place to make it more
homey, if you will. We drew little pictures and put them up on the walls, we
brought down a small chair, and we would even bring our homework down there and
(attempt) to do it. We started bringing music tapes and a tape player down too,
so we would have music to listen to. I remember our MC student at the time
always showed my brother the cool stuff he was listening to. DC Talk’s Jesus
Freak was a really cool one for us at that time. I remember loving the Jesus
Freak song and wanting to hear it over and over again. There was also a feature
on our awesome tape player that allowed us to record our own voices onto tapes.
Oh, the endless fun and entertainment THAT brought about!
I
love having memories like this. I think if I went down there and took a look
into that cubby again, I would find a space that I could hardly fit into now
and probably find remnants of our days virtually living in there.
For
all of us, fragments of our good memories still live in one form or another. I
think these are good things to hold onto; I’m not talking about being a pack
rat, but rather cherishing the moments that brought us joy as a child, and also
letting them speak to who we are now. I know that in all of our lives there are
things we want to forget too, things that bring us pain to think about. God can
heal us of those memories and show us how he was there with us, but let’s also
thank him for the times that have branded something fond and positive in our
hearts. Those creative moments, those precious times with our siblings. The
good and the bad are all a part of your story. Give God the hurt, but don’t
forget the meaning behind all he has allowed you to do or experience.
And
the songs, or the books that spoke to you as a child, don’t dismiss those.
Something was calling you back then. It was probably God’s voice, telling you a
little bit about himself or who he made you to be.
I
still want to be a Jesus Freak.
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