Sacred Space

We all need a space of our own, a small sacred space that our soul can call home.  

One of the hardest adjustments I had to make after moving into my husband's house, was finding a place inside of it where I feel at home.  

My sons and I grew up together in the house I purchased shortly after my divorce from their father.  We lived there for 10 years and everything in it was ours, the furniture, the clutter, the cracked walls and the memories. As a Cancerian woman, my home and my family are the center of my universe, and I took a lot of pride in the haven we created. It was my retreat, my anchor, my sanctuary, and most days there wasn't a place I'd rather be.  

Then I met my husband, fell instantly in love and had to make one of the most difficult decisions of my life.  As single parents we both were financially strapped, the housing market tanked and there was no way we could both sell our homes in order to purchase something of our own together.  His home was larger and in the school district in which he taught so it was up to the boys and I to move into his place.

The transition was difficult for us all.  I had to face constant reminders of the life he had with his ex-wife, knowing each item inside the house had its own memories attached to it, none of which included me.  His kids had to get used to having to share their space with 3 new people, to an organizational freak of a stepmother that likes things placed just so, new rules, chores and expectations.  My boys had to give up separate rooms and go back to sharing one bedroom, a fenced-in backyard where our dog could run free to chase squirrels and the home I promised them (after several tumultuous years) we would never leave.  It was rough, my heart broke for them and for myself and I agonized over asking them to make such a sacrifice.  

My husband and I stayed in the small bedroom giving the larger master suite to the boys to share.  We couldn't even fit all of our clothes in there, let alone any of my personal "treasures."  My stepdaughter had always occupied the finished attic, consisting of 3 small rooms.  After many months of holding me while I cried, frustrated with having no where to hide and unable to perform all the daily self-care rituals that kept my spirit healthy, my husband made the decision to move his daughter to our small room, allowing us to take over the top floor.  Suffice to say, it was not an easy undertaking and we all came away with some battle scars but it was the best decision in the end.  

We turned one room into our bedroom, another holds the excess stuff accumulated over two middle aged lifetimes and the third has become my sacred space.  In it I've placed all the things that bring me comfort and peace, soothe my soul and calm my mind.  My favorite leather chair, the first real item of furniture I bought on my own, in which my cat and I cuddle together while I read or take a nap.  The antique oak dresser and matching wall mirror my grandmother gave to me several years before she passed away knowing I was the one that would appreciate them most.  As my spiritual journey continues, new things are added, crystals, tarot cards, prayer beads, stones, shells and candles.  The afternoon sun shines in the window giving the whole room a heavenly glow.  This is where I meditate, pray, write and heal.  While I have to admit, the house still doesn't feel like home, this small corner of it does.  It is a place that I can call my own.  

Do you have a room, a closet, a corner where you go to escape the world?  What place does your soul call home?