Readers of The Pew are familiar with the importance of finding a “special place” for meditation and prayer. This sacred space doesn’t have to be the same physical location every time. It can be found on a quiet, windswept beach, in the solitude of a towering mountain range during a long weekend getaway, or on a simple walk in the hushed woods. For the last fifteen years, however, my special place has been a small loft office, bathed in light, that looks out onto the vibrant life of Kingston Avenue in Charlotte, North Carolina. I have lost count of the number of meditations I’ve shared from this comfortable spot, a witness to countless moments of quiet contemplation and spiritual insight.
But all seasons must come to an end, and today’s Pew will be the last devotional written from my special place. As I write, the movers are packing up the memories, filling boxes with the fifteen years of my life lived in this space. The familiar light, once a source of calm, now feels different—it’s the last light of an era. The quiet that once enveloped me is punctuated by the sound of tape and cardboard. But there is no fear, only a profound gratitude. Soon, I will set up shop in a new place, a space I pray will bring the same calm and solace my body and spirit crave.
I have always admired those who seem to carry a quiet, special place inside them, a private sanctuary independent of their surroundings. Whatever the situation, even in the chaos of a moving day, they exhibit a reserved calm. It’s as if they have a private joke with God, a deep, knowing peace that no earthly circumstance can disturb. As I close this chapter and seek my next quiet corner, I am reminded that the true goal is not to find a special place, but to become that place—a vessel of peace that is always available, a home for my soul that can be found even in the midst of transition.
Leave a Reply +