Go To Your Special Place

One of my co-workers has a great big bowl of candy that she passes out to people on Friday afternoons. She is allergic to chocolate, that's how she can safely store this bowl of candy at her desk. She knows my favorite is Dove Dark chocolate. So if I'm not here when she passes by, she leaves one on my keyboard. It's one of those weekly rituals that I particularly enjoy. The fun thing about Dove chocolates is that the wrapper always has a special little message typed on the inside. I used to save my wrappers because they made me smile. Then I realized how many I had and I remembered seeing those homes of hoarders on Oprah and I got a little paranoid and threw them away. ANYWAY, I still love my special messages, but now I discipline myself to enjoy it for awhile and then throw it away already! Geesh! So today, this is what my Dove chocolate wrapper told me to do.

“Go To Your Special Place”

When I read it, I kind of giggled as I imagined myself rocking back and forth in fetal position with my thumb in my mouth finding my “happy place”. My special PLACE? Do I have a special place? Where do I go when I am seeking refuge or respite from the cold, cruel, angry world? Is it all in my head, a memory of someplace from my youth? Is it at the mall with my credit card in hand? Or is it daydreaming about an exotic (probably never going to happen) vacation? Or could it simply be 14295 Bassett Street? Basically it could be or mean anything. Sky’s the limit. As a matter of fact, my special place could be the sky itself. So I’m on a tangent to find out what I want my special place to be. (And since I’m making the rules, I’m not going to have just one…)

My Special Places:

18646 Golfview: I’m sorry, I’m super sentimental, but I grew up in this house and every memory I have as a child is tied to it. Whether good or bad, it all happened here. I can remember so many little details about this place. The funky wallpaper patterns in the “big bathroom”, the oozy mortar pattern on the brick fireplace, the patched up hole in the hallway where Jeff put his fist through the wall. It all comes back with such clarity, doesn’t it? That is a special place for me. I remember my red and blue room, and having a Strawberry Shortcake comforter and sheet set. I remember when I moved into my re-decorated for my 15th birthday light blue and dusty rose “country” room. But I mostly remember just snuggling up on the blue and tan plaid couches in the family room, watching TV, Dad reading the paper on the loveseat, while Mom cooked dinner in the kitchen (I can still hear the hissing of the pressure cooker) and various siblings were either propped on the coveted spot on the carpet in front of the TV or doing homework assignments at the kitchen table. That will always be a very special place in my heart and mind.

A daydream of a (probably never going to happen) exotic vacation: I finally checked off Disneyworld this past year so now I’m onto daydreaming about other distant lands. I think I’ve mentioned about a million times that I want to go back to the Czech Republic and so I’m not going to classify that as a “probably never going to happen” because hopefully it will happen someday. Instead, I’m going to write about another place that really probably won’t ever happen but is fun to think about. For me, right now I have this dream of flying into either Dublin or Edinburgh, Scotland and either riding buses or trains south into the deep Scottish countryside. We would stop and stay at bed and breakfasts or small, quaint Inn’s and dine on authentic Scottish cuisine (haggis anyone?) and hike around and discover things all day long. I would want to make my way through the country to the Island of Ronansay… (It’s this fictitious place that was made up in this show on PBS that I love called “2,000 Acres of Sky”, produced by the BBC). In the show they call this place the Island of Ronansay, but in real life it’s Port Logan, and is a small village in the parish of Kirkmaiden in the Rhins of Galloway in Wigtownshire. (Doesn’t that SOUND amazing?)

Trefoil Ranch: I will always remember the summers I worked at Trefoil Ranch in Provo Canyon. It really was a beautiful place and I was constantly surrounded by gorgeous mountains, wildflowers for miles, and blue sky dotted with white, cottony clouds. I remember taking early-morning runs along the canyon road and hiking along dirt trails up and down the mountainside. I remember climbing a mountain for the first time in my life and sleeping under the stars with giggly little girl scouts and other counselors, who became my close friends. I remember learning to love nature and myself in a new way and feeling very connected to God’s creations. It was a special place and time in my life.

The Temple: I know this may sound a bit like a stock Sunday school answer, but for me the Temple is a real touch-stone and constant in my life. Ever since I left home at 18, I have moved around a lot. I haven’t really lived in any one place longer than 3 years. Because of that, I’ve discovered I really don’t consider any place “home” right now. Even now that I’m back in Michigan, I still don’t feel “home”. Mostly because we are just renting our house right now and may not stay after Mark finishes school. But I have found this feeling of being “at home” in the Temple. It reminds me where I came from, and where I’m going, and helps me to feel peace and serenity all at the same time.

So here’s another one of those posts that is supposed to get you thinking…what is your “special place” and why?