Secret Place

When we were kids, my brothers and I, loved to climb all day. We climbed anything that would hold us and even some things that didn’t…My dad referred to us as monkeys our whole lives until we were grown and the name changed to ‘Apes’. 

The climbing was in us. I remember when we were quite little, we liked to climb up on a dresser so that we couldn’t be reached by the others when we played tag. It was quite often our designated ‘SAFE’. I really don’t recall it ‘not being allowed’. The ability to climb up there was a feat of strength and agility that we exercised until we got so big we tipped the thing over…I believe my mama put a stop to it at that point, and sent us out to a great tree in the front yard that was to be our new playground.

I was intimidated by the tree at first, but my dad showed us how to find a foothold and get a handhold and strategically and slowly climb up. There were days I got stuck up there and cried and cried for help. My dad would eventually come and ‘rescue’ me, patiently talking me down, one step at a time. We gradually learned this ‘art’ without help, teaching the next one how to do it.

This shared magic was something my brothers and I looked forward to every day the weather was good. We got stronger and more skilled in our climbing and went higher and higher trying to best each other in heavy competition. Pretty soon the entire neighborhood of kids spent their afternoons at our house climbing the great tree. I think at one time we had about fifteen kids up there. Some had to wait in line for their turn to climb up there. It was ‘The Fort’. It was ‘House’. It was ‘Base’.  It was ‘Heaven’. It was’The Hideout’. It often became a tent with the help of old sheets. Occasionally during playing ‘war’ it was the launchpad for dirt clods or teacups full of water for the ‘enemy’ down below.

I, being the oldest, was the first to find my way to the top. I sat up on the only strong branch near the top, gazing out through thin sticks and leaves. It became the ‘lookout’ that everyone aspired to reach. I get butterflies in my stomach thinking about the thrill of that position!

The great trunk and branches were slowly worn smooth from years of climbing by growing feet and hands. I loved to run my hand over its trunk, even hugging the thing in love and comfort when tears and sorrows attacked. I frequently climbed as high as I could and sat in its hidden cover to be by myself.

This tree and other climbing things are engrained in my spirit. I graduated to horses and hills and mountains and uneven parallel bars. Anything that would lift me up above…

When we moved, and years later,  I went back to see my old house. I was shocked to see the Tree missing from the front yard. 

WHO WOULD CUT DOWN SUCH AN ICON!!!??? MY TREE!!!!

I sat outside the house in my car and cried great tears of loss. A loss of childhood.

This thing, this memory lives deep in my heart and it was provoked by an enormous cousin to that first tree.

Currently, we are in process at our house and property, cleaning and clearing and refining our living space. Today we said goodbye to an ancient chicken coop, built by my father and brothers for my mama. The thing was falling apart. It had been patched and kept useful beyond its lifespan. The roof and walls were disintegrated and when I had chickens in it, was regularly invaded by snakes and varmints, stealing the precious eggs.

Removing the skeleton, opened up the area around a beautiful old oak tree.  I love this tree!!  And I have always loved this shaded section of the yard! 

As I raked underneath and gazed up into the giant limbs, I got butterflies again. I could totally SEE a swing and children climbing and playing in its branches. The vision is BIG!!!

Interestingly enough, nearly all my grandchildren are ‘climbers’ also!  It’s not unusual to find them scaling rocks or hanging from trees.

What is the value of such as this? Where does the desire to climb and imagine and compete and dare such feats come from? 

Better yet, Lord, what is it You want me to say here? What can I glean from a distant memory that has given such vision and delight?

We know, innately, that this world is not our home. We humans, created in the image of God, dwell with Him, daily watching at His gates, listening for His Words. Surely there is some connection between the attempt to go higher and the need to reach the Heavens, to be back with our Creator.

We all, in varying ways want to go ‘up’. Our families, our jobs, our house, our cars; that next mountain. It is how we are wired. 

Is striving to reach upward part of our DNA? What does that look like for you?

” From the end of the earth I will cry unto Thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.”

-Psalms 61:2

Do we long to go to that hidden place where we are nourished and fed, where we can look down on our woes from lofty heights, where none can see us but the One who knows it all?

Surely there, the problems that beset us seem small and the pits become invisible!

We sail above it all in our tree, on our mountain, in our airplane…

Oh Lord! What a great and beautiful Father You are. You designed us with all of our quirks and desires carefully molded into our makeup. You SEE us hidden away, clinging to Your feet.

 Even as we seek after Your Presence in the secret places of our hearts…You find us to be Your delight and Your treasure. Set us apart for Your purposes, as we search after Your treasure!!

“He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty”.

~ Psalm 91:1