“Get me out of here!”
You won’t expect to say that, of course.
I’m sure before you stepped in you thought there would be plenty of space to rest and relax. You may have even thought you might want to live here for a time, curious about the atmosphere.
You probably thought the shelves meant for organized thoughts, practicality and logic would be empty, ready to fill any way you want.
You envisioned easy chairs made for a type-B personality, comfortable and inviting.
Maybe there would be speakers that only emit the sounds of peaceful babbling brooks and chirping sparrows.
You were planning on closing your eyes while sitting on a lush sofa that you were certain would be placed right in front of a large screen tv playing sappy love stories.
You might have thought the walls would be covered with pictures of lovely landscapes and sentimental memories.
Beyond that, you were sure there would be lots of spare space for breathing and dancing and dreaming.
But what you walk into was not at all what you imagined.
There is music when you enter, as you expected. But it isn’t the only sound going on in this space. There are voices called Obligation and Urgency that seem to be yelling at you for no reason at all, and no apparent way to shut them up. And when they aren’t screaming at you, they are arguing with each other.
The big screen is there but the channel keeps changing. On the couch is Lady Creativity, sitting on the edge of her seat, a look of concentration on her face, remote in hand, flipping from one show to another, unable to stay on anything in particular. She only looks up to shout to Obligation and Urgency to keep it down.
Something is flying around the room. But the sweet chirping of birds you were imagining turn out to be Random Ideas buzzing next to your ear. They seem to have a message. You put out your hand to let one land, to listen to what they are actually trying to say to you, but they have the wings of hummingbirds. They are here and then gone again, and you’re left feeling like anything you heard was nothing more than noise.
You look over to those shelves of logic and reason you were sure would be empty. But you were wrong. Organized Thought is there, though nearly invisible, squished nearly flat between volumes of Deep Thought and Intense Emotion. Scattered here and there are pages half-filled with Prose and Musings that never quite found their way to the outside world. Stories that never realized their endings.
Those easy chairs? There is nothing easy about them. They call you to sit, but you find they are uncomfortable. They can’t contain all this energy that seems to be running through your body now. All this Activity and Noise leaves you anxious, unable to tame your own thoughts. Moving with the chaos seems to make it better, so you are up and walking again.
You are pacing, ready to lose your mind.
If you don’t get out of here soon, you’re convinced the only way to escape will include a straight jacket.
You pinch yourself, hoping that all of this is just a bad dream that you’ll be waking from soon.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a small flicker.
You almost miss it, it’s so faint. But as you turn and begin heading in the direction of this warm light, you realize there is a small room that seems to be separate from the madness.
As you approach this closet-sized room, the insanity of all the things behind you starts to fade.
Someone is sitting at a piano, gently playing what can only be described as YOUR song. Like He really GETS YOU. He looks up, smiles and offers you a seat next to Him.
There is no resisting His invitation.
There is only one thing you can imagine doing in your current state of mental exhaustion, and as you take your place beside Him, you rest your head on His shoulder and merely listen to Him play. Your eyes close with the relief that comes from finding that quiet, peaceful place by His side.
Obligation is silenced and urgency is muted in this room.
The palpable frenetic pace melts into tangible peace.
And for a few precious moments, the mayhem is forgotten.
This is the safe room. A Sanctuary of Retreat from the crazy.
You breathe it in as the music plays.
This place is worth the journey.
If only you could stay here.
Do you have to go back out into that main room, trip over the mess and expose yourself to the overwhelming noise that goes on there?
But you know that leaving my mind will require going back through the clutter to get back to your own familiar world.
Reluctantly, you leave this place of refreshment to return to where you belong. You hurriedly dash through the place I spend the majority of my days, afraid of getting stuck on the way out. You tell me thanks for the time, but I can see in your eyes that you are dying to go, so I give you a hug and send you on your way.
I tell you that you are welcome back any time. But I know better. Once is more than enough.
What you don’t know is that I would have followed you out if I could have.
My bags are already packed and I’m ready for a simpler, quieter existence, free from the madness.
But this is the mind I’ve been given.
Messy gray matter.
Kinetic and crazy.
A place where I’m certain that madness will one day get the last word.
And the reason that I treasure the sweet moments of quiet next to the One who plays my song.
Play, Jesus. Play….
