Happiness Week 2: Pondering "Sanctuary"

JP and I have been talking a lot lately about the significance of Sanctuary in our lives – compassionate encounters with hospitality – sometimes referring to the physical protection of safe walls and a roof over head, and sometimes through acts of service that protect and preserve one’s well-being.

So yesterday, when the song Witness to Your Life came on as I was listening to a new playlist on my iPod, I found myself quickly thinking about the interconnected roles of Sanctuary & Happiness in our lives.  The refrain of the song goes like this:

All you really need is someone to be here
Someone who’ll never let you disappear
And I will be that witness to your life

This maybe just a softer place to fall
But somebody will answer when you call
And I will be that witness to your life

You should never have to be alone
Someone will always call you home
And I will be that witness to your life

- Lori McKenna, Witness to Your Life

The idea is… we need each other.  To be happy, I think, we need to feel seen, heard, and loved — unconditionally.  And, with unconditional being such a Tall order, I think our need for each other causes us just as much discontent sometimes as it causes us happiness.  So what do we need?  I think we need Sanctuary.

I know “a bit” about Sanctuary (as I broadly described it above).

As a 19 year-old, I lived and traveled alone through Spain, Greece, England, and Scotland, and I experienced countless precious moments of Sanctuary offered to me by strangers in foreign tongues and strange lands.  Sometimes it came in the form of a place to stay, a meal to eat, and sometimes in the form of spontaneous & protective hospitality, 5-minute friendship, and safety.  Sometimes I knew I needed the help.  Sometimes… sigh.  But what I can tell you is that when it came, it came without question, without condition, and with great care.

Happiness.

I flew alone from Madrid to London once to visit a friend in Nottingham.  I was naive, unprepared, and impressively unconcerned about my naivety and unpreparedness!  Have you ever flown into Gatwick Airport?  Do you know how the metro system works to transport you from there to the city, and how to get from there to the train station?  Do you know how to navigate the system without so much as a planner’s guide or tour book?  Does the thought of attempting it with no planning at all make you cringe?  (Oh, my poor mother would probably rather not read on!!)

It may sound like a recipe for disaster.  But what if I told you I never encountered a single moment of anxiety, and all I found was Hospitality and Sanctuary freely offered by strangers?

As I flew into London, the woman who sat next to me on the plane (and whose name I may sadly never remember!) and asked me where I was headed.  She was probably in her 40s, a mother, an aunt, a sister… and (without question) a Londoner returning from a business trip.  When she realized I had No Clue how to navigate Gatwick, that no one would be waiting for me when I arrived, and that I was expecting to just wander my way to my destination, she did nothing to make me nervous by suggesting what a complex situation I was walking into.  You know what she did?

She said, “follow me.”

I wish I could remember her name!!  From the plane, she got me on the tram to the airport, and once we arrived to the frantically busy Gatwick Express terminal, she asked if I had any Pounds.  No, of course not.  I had pesetas!!  And a bank card.  She didn’t gasp.

She said, “follow me.”

She ushered me through the bumping crowds to a money terminal, and she suggested an appropriate safe amount to carry until I could arrive at my destination.  She guarded my back until I had my cash, and then she asked if I knew how to get to the train station in London.  Of course not – I had no idea upon my departure that navigating Gatwick would be so complex!

She knew, and she said, “follow me.”

Today, it almost makes me cry!  She hustled me through the crowd to catch the next train to the center of London.  She sat next to me, and she gave me instructions.  She couldn’t take me all the way to my destination, but she pointed to the signs, and she showed me the name of the stop where I needed to get off: St. Pancras International Train Station, and where I would purchase a ticket for the next train to Nottingham… if there would still be a train at that hour!  She also gave me detailed instructions on where to go, what to do, and where not to go and what not to do.  (Sorry, Mom.)

So you know what happened next?  As my guardian prepared me for her separation, another woman behind me chimed in and told her that she was heading in my direction and would get me to the train station.

I looked at this new woman, and she nodded, “follow me.”

And before the woman who had spent the past hour ensuring my safety left my side, she made one last effort to further my protection.  She handed me her cell phone and told me to call my friend in Nottingham, tell her I had arrived, and to be waiting for my next call once I had my train pass and knew my arrival time.  She told me, “Once you get your ticket, find a phone booth and call her.  Make sure she knows when to expect you.”  I did.

I wonder what she might have been thinking as she finally separated from me, looking back one last time as she stepped off the train at the naive 19 year old girl who graciously smiled, waved, and enthusiastically thanked her – thinking Londoners are wonderful people.

I feel like a bit of a mess now, just to think of it.  I can only compare it to the raw feelings I experienced yesterday when I noticed a friend’s little girl had gone missing from a party room at a local pool where a mob of people were gathered watching presents being opened.  Everyone in the party was supposed to be within the glass enclosure, and I knew she had been there eating pizza several minutes before.  When I  suddenly realized she was gone, my insides curled and my momma alert was thrown into high gear.  Through the crowd of adults and children, I scanned the room to see if any other children were missing… yes.  One.  But everyone else was accounted for – and neither of the missing girls had parents at the party.  I could see the door to the pool was blocked by adults… and I didn’t see how they could have gotten out… but somehow, when no one was paying attention, back to the pool they had gone.  Two 7 year old girls, unsupervised.  As soon as I could clearly see they were NOT anywhere in the room, I made sure my child was seated with instructions to not move from his seat, and I pushed through the other adults with quiet fury and an ill stomach.  I asked the parents by the door if they noticed two little girls leave.  No.  Sick to my stomach and more than a little annoyed, I pushed through the door to find them.  Many of you are moms – you get that feeling, right?  Your kid is missing?  Well, they weren’t mine – but try telling my feelings that.  When I finally saw them bopping in the water on the other side of the pool, I moved with speed to catch them.  Up & out girls.

And can you guess what I said?  “Follow me.”

I guess what I am getting at through my own (happy & frightful) memories is that we don’t like to see others unwell, unhappy, or unprotected!!  It goes back to a remark I made in my last post about Darwin’s realization “that what sets humans apart from other species is our Compassion – our ability to empathize and come to the aid of others.”

And, despite contrary opinion at times, for us to offer sanctuary, it often doesn’t matter at all what is “in it for us.”  It made me sick yesterday to think of one of the girls getting hurt or carried off unobserved.  You could not have paid me to stay in my seat and not go looking to make sure they were OK.  I can only imagine my London travel guardian heaving a pained breath of prayer through her kind smile as she looked back at me – heading off as she must, having done all she could – and praying I’d make it safely to my destination.

It’s possible that moment is long gone from her memory.  Although, I have remembered many people along my path who I’ve helped – even strangers in one-time encounters.  So maybe I pop in her head every now and then, too.  In any case, however it may be for her, I remember her fondly and can only pray with a heart full of gratitude that she is well and full of peace.

It is possible that without her sudden friendship, guidance, and protection, I may have still made it to my destination without calamity.  It is possible – even if frightful to consider.  But I would have missed a beautiful experience – one that reinforced my belief that people are good and generous – so that, 15 years later, when I read Darwin’s conclusion that we are a Compassionate species, I can think of her (and MANY others) and know it, through undeniable experience, to be true.

So the question today, (as I think it is time to wrap this up!), is: do you have memories of people offering you “sanctuary”?  And/or of who have you offered “sanctuary” to?  Or of seeing others give and receive sanctuary?  How does it make you feel to think of the acts of kindness, support, guidance, and quiet behind the scenes prayers and actions you may have offered to others?  And, how do you think these encounters with “compassion” and “sanctuary” (or lack thereof) shape your experience of happiness?

You know, disappearance seems to me the greatest tragedy.  Being unnoticed, uncared for.  Or FEELING unnoticed or uncared for.  But I wonder if we paid attention more to the signs of Compassion flowing around us if we would develop a greater sense of Wonder for the interconnectedness and surprising forms of “sanctuary” that appear in our lives – answering a call, giving us a “softer” place to fall, someone bearing Witness to our lives – revealing we’re really not Alone – even when it sometimes seems we are – or the circumstances feel most unlikely.

Goodness, I didn’t know I had so much to write this morning.  Such a wonderful memory to pop in my head.  I hope the interweaving of the narrative and my attempted explanation of my own understanding of “sanctuary” make some sense!  And if not, I hope you enjoyed the story!!! 

Happy, Happy Monday!
-AR
Bluebird Women

Yep, that’s me. 19, traveling with a teddy bear, and doing “cartwheels around the world.”

All you really need is someone to be here
Someone who’ll never let you disappear
And I will be that witness to your life

This maybe just a softer place to fall
But somebody will answer when you call
And I will be that witness to your life

You should never have to be alone
Someone will always call you home
And I will be that witness to your life

– Lori McKenna, Witness to Your Life

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