You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.

Psalm 32:7

The first time I sat down in the floor of my closet was the beginning of August. I had gone into my son's room suggesting he start to get some of his things together to prepare to move to college. Just the mention of such a thing made my eyes brim over with tears. I turned quickly before he could see me and went to my room. I locked the door to my room and went into my closet and cried. 

I don't recollect any words coming out of my mouth, but I remember thinking how I would have to trust God to get me through the next month. And he did. 

Last week was a long week. By Thursday I was overwhelmed. Getting ready for work, I unplugged my flat iron and put my makeup in its drawer. I noticed I had five minutes left before I needed to leave.  So again I stepped inside my closet, leaving the light off. I rested my back against the door frame and said a quick prayer. 

This morning I did the same thing. Pandora was playing one of my favorite songs, "Multiplied" by Needtobreathe. Just like in August, I just sat quietly as if I didn't have anywhere to go. I listened as if I didn't have anything to say. 

So moved was I, that as soon as I got in the car to go to work, I decided I needed this space to pray. I figured I'd move the big basket of kid keepsakes and the dirty clothes hamper that took up space. I'd put the container of extra sheets and blankets somewhere else. I planned it out in my head and made quick notes as soon as I got to work. 

I wouldn't call it a "War Room"; possibly because I don't want to this room to be created from a fad. So far I haven't done much warring in its quarters.  Thus far it's a place I've gone when I'm too tired to fight. It's a place I've gone to hide. You don't talk too much when you hide. 

The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still. Exodus 14:14

I didn't pay a dime creating my own space. If you look closely you'll notice I used a tapestry Jason brought back from Africa and an old doll blanket just to add a little color. I stole several thumbtacks from the kids' posters in their rooms. I got the polka-dotted pillow for three dollars several weeks ago. Jason said it was the most ridiculous pillow he'd ever seen. I was starting to agree until I found this spot for it. 

 

  

 

I hope it lasts longer then my prayer chair. Someone, whose name I won't mention (that thought my cute pillow was ridiculous), made a habit of covering my prayer chair with his clothes. While it's convenient to blame him, I found myself easily distracted in that chair. 

 My new spot feels shut-off from the world. 

I'll still be praying while driving behind slow-moving cars and on starry nights with my head on my pillow corralling dizzying thoughts of what lie ahead in the tomorrow. My mouth will still utter requests when I get a text from a friend suffering difficulties or before I put my fork in mouth at dinner time. There's no place I won't pray. 

I'm sure I'll be lifting up burdens by the dozens in this room. 

But here, between the row of clothes and words that come out, I hope I find the space to listen. 

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