take off your shoes

Sanctuary (n): a consecrated place; a center of refuge and protection.  Derived from the Latin word "sanctus" which means holy (sanctus is the word that the angels, upon seeing the very glory of God, call to one another in Isaiah's vision.)  A sanctuary, then, is literally holy ground, a place belonging to the Divine, a spot where heaven and earth kiss one another.

I'm remembering now a handful of places I've had the pleasure of visiting in my lifetime - places, which seemed to me then and even now, to be holy ground.  One is a small summer camp off River Road, where as a kid I spent one week every July that I dreamed about for the other fifty-one.  A rock on the coast of British Columbia where you can watch real bald eagles swoop down to catch salmon out of the inlet.  A sprawling, lush green field beneath the red brick clock tower.  A café in Paris where I spent hours and hours with three friends I will cherish for a lifetime.  One is a house that's always full of children, teenagers, college students, and a lot of other people who come in and out on a regular basis.  And one is a simple room with hardwood floors, the windows open like kind eyes to the river and town below.  

These places are not sacred to me for aesthetic reasons, though some possess beauty beyond description.  It seems to be much more about what happened within.  They are the setting for my story and the context of my growing up.   If life is a play, then the script gives meaning to the scene, and not the other way around.  And so my sanctuaries are bowls full of rain that hold the things important enough to remember, to cherish, to cling to.  Without the water, all that remains is an empty piece of clay. 

I like to come back to these places sometimes when I'm lying in my bed or driving my car or waiting in line.  I like the power of remembering that I have felt real Glory and Wonder, whether in the deep blue of staggering mountains or a warm conversation with a beautiful soul.  I have called out, like Isaiah's angels, to the world around me - holy, holy, holy!  I have stood in awe.  And while I am sometimes saddened that I will never physically return to some of my old "sanctuaries", there is also the sure promise that my feet will again tread on holy ground.  I'm not done taking off my shoes, not even close.