By Marianne Wood

As a young child, I often sought refuge in the space below a round coffee table in our living room. This safe-seeming shelter was open on all sides, but I felt practically invisible since the table was low to the ground, about eighteen inches tall. And I must have been inconspicuous and certainly out of the way because I don’t remember anyone bothering me while ducked below that glass-topped haven. While I did not stay there for long periods, I recall feeling the edges of life falling away as I nestled adjacent but separate from our bustling household. 

I found other similar-feeling places, like tunnels in molded hay and pits the boys dug using old Army shovels. Kids in those days also hid in closets and garages, but most notably for me, I sometimes chose to lodge in the house belonging to King, the collie next door. No one who knows the clean freak and picky eater I am today can believe I ate bologna on white bread sandwiches there, often with one of King’s family’s children and sometimes with himself beside us! Cocooning may be our plea to return to the womb. I think that’s okay. Life can be scary.

One evening, experiences of refuge shot into my mind, recalling the feeling of coziness while waiting in an empty cloister-like space, preparing to visit a crowded museum. The tickets my husband and I held said we’d have to wait forty-five minutes for our turn to go inside. So we cooled our heels, standing in this lighted space nearby. A few couples and groups filtered in, but none stayed for long. So, with time to focus on the pale yellow walls and curved arches with tunnels leading to mysterious enclosures, I could not help but picture a young family finding primitive shelter in a stable: part of an inn or a home in Bethlehem. The image below helps me recall the awe of the quiet worship I enjoyed in that place.

I thank God for breaking into my distractions during a journey in a foreign place to deliver this peaceful picture of refuge before the press of people engulfed us. Now, at home, as I reread passages from the Bible and books by notable authors about Advent, I thank Him for using these seasonal scriptures and stories to help me fully process the gift of that experience. One sentence from my reading stands out, matching my observation and imagination. “God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, light in darkness, succor in abandonment.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Marianne Wood works as an editorial assistant and researcher for Bill Wright