My Father’s Sanctuary–Where Is Yours?
Beyond this door was my father’s sanctuary. Here he made furniture, lures, sinkers, and leather goods. It was also a place where he could smoke without my mother knowing about it or simply hide from my mother until dinnertime! He no longer uses it because he’s unable–his sanctuary lies elsewhere.
Everyone needs a sanctuary, don’t you agree? Perhaps it’s a reading room, a spot in a chair under the canopy of a tree, a gardening shed to pot up plants, an easel and stool in a nearby field–a man cave :).
I don’t have a sanctuary–I’ve more or less taken over the living room where my easel reminds me that the canvas is blank and the pile of unread books are mounting. But I’d like to have a room where I can leave all my endeavors on a big oak work table and not worry about putting everything away.
Perhaps a sanctuary for you is within, a place in your mind where you can shut out the world, find peace, stillness. What does the word sanctuary mean to you?
Daily Gratitude: my father returning home from the hospital today
© Teresita Abad Doebley All rights reserved 2009-2011.