Reading Francis

When we bought our house, the “master bedroom” was a bright and beautiful room with lots of windows, but no insulation, a tiny closet, and a bathroom that had obviously been plumbed with spare parts from Home Depot. 

So when we were stable enough financially to renovate our space, we made a list of what was important to us, and a prayer space was high on the list. Well, maybe below insulation and a working bathroom, but it was on the list. 

The guy who built the space was surprised that we didn’t want to run cable for internet here – this was back before WiFi was ubiquitous – because he usually built spaces like this for home offices. But that’s not what we wanted it for. 

I think a lot of people have a prayer space, or a quiet corner to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee and “just be”, and they’re probably all a little different. It’s probably not unusual that ours has room for books, but in retrospect, I’m not sure a writing desk is a common choice. I suspect most people would prefer an easy chair.  Writing has been a core prayer practice for me since at least high school, so this works for me. 

The crosses came much later. Most are mementos from places we’ve been – from Sarasota to Europe, and many have stories behind them. Some of them we inherited are received as gifts from dear friends. In truth, the crosses have outgrown the space; we have others on walls around the house.  The plaques, pictures, statues and knickknacks all have stories, too. 

If you’re accustomed to order and a clean desk, apologies if this is a little triggering. 

Back when Disney World had a working studio in one of their parks, we used to visit an area where you could see real life animators at work, and one would talk to the group of visitors about what they did as part of the tour. I was always struck by how “busy” their spaces were, with sketches and photos and notes pinned, taped and otherwise cast about the desk. One time the animator explained that, for them, surrounding yourself with different images and ideas made it easier to be creative. They never knew what combination of inspirations and inputs would spark a new idea or creative solution, so they curated their space with varieties of possibilities in hopes that something would click. 

Maybe I’ve just claimed that model as an excuse for my little corner of chaos, but I don’t think so. It’s not that a specific image will jump out and speak to me on a given night, but there’s something about the collection in its entirety that helps me. When I sit here, I’m a little better able to tune out the distractions of the rest of my day, and I’m a lot better at tuning into the divine and the different. So this is where I’ve written, maybe not all of my reflections, but at least 85% of them. 

I wouldn’t encourage anyone to try to replicate this exactly, but I think most people benefit from a space that’s uniquely theirs, and reserved for reflection. It might be a corner of a room, or it might be a space outside; wherever it is, it’s a space to be comfortably alone and able to reconnect with yourself and with the God who knows you. 

Do you have a space like that? If so, what’s it like? If not, what would you want it to be?