Safe Harbour

The following conversation took place late one evening in the fall of 1993, right before my babies, husband and I moved to RAF Lakenheath in England, where he was stationed from 1993-1996. We stayed with Aunt Mattie almost a month before heading out across the Pond and I cherished every moment I got to spend with her before we flew away.

"You were only three," she said, "...standing there restlessly on the church pew bench, sorting through my purse and handing me bits from inside." My head rested in Aunt Mattie's lap while I listened to her tell me stories from my childhood. She absently stroked my hair with hands gnarled by arthritis that I knew was painful, even though she didn't show it, nor complain. Her face reflected the peace that I always found by just being close to her. "Dr. Martin looked over in our direction and smiled at us, which considering the topic of his sermon, I thought strange. I looked over at you and stifled a laugh. I'd been wondering why you'd been so still for the last five minutes, very unlike you! Your face was covered in my red lipstick!" I laughed and so did she. "You know, if you'd been like most parents, I'd have been in big trouble," I told her and reached up to squeeze her hand. She squeezed back, looking down at me, her eyes filled with tender love. "You were just a child and children, especially, require patience, although you were a challenge to mine frequently,"  her eyes twinkling their approval of my mischievous nature. "I wasn't your responsibility, and yet you raised me like I was your own. Thank you," I said, sincerely. "You were mine, you are mine and always will be," she reminded me.

It was many years passed my childhood days before I truly understood what the term Safe Harbour meant and that Aunt Mattie has always been the very foundation of that idea for me. It all begins with her, the person who taught me that home is not a place. Home is found in a select few people, who step into our lives and give us sanctuary, nourishment, and unconditional love. Rarely do we stay in Safe Harbour, but we always return again and again, after the storms of the world have battered us around to the point where it's almost more than we can bear. We return to patch our hull, freshen our paint, repair our mast, before we once again sail away in search of new adventures. "A ship in port is safe, but that's not what ships are built for." ~Rear Admiral Grace Murray Hopper

*Images @ etsy.com (lipstick) & bobpittmanart.com (sailboat).

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