Everyone needs to have a ‘place,’ a place where they can keep their ‘stuff.’ That place may be shared with someone else, maybe even several other people call it their place, as well. It may not be much to look at or have much value, but nevertheless, it is my place. There may be just a little corner that I call my own but everyone else in the house knows that that corner is mine! I remember watching a crime show on TV one evening, and it was about a body being found in an alley. The body was that of a transient person who had been murdered. The bottom line was that the murdered person was infringing upon the space (place) of another transient. The accused had put together a cardboard, makeshift lean-to in the alley. In it he had all that belonged to him, mostly aluminum cans, bedding and old clothes, etc., things that were valuable only to that one person. It was his ‘place,’ and he protected it even if it meant taking another’s life to do so. Most of us have a place that we are protective of, a place where we go and feel safe, or comfortable. A place that we will protect, but hopefully, not murder for.
I remember when I was a small boy, my sister and I built a ‘place’ in the woods behind our house. We built it out of cardboard boxes. We had cleared the weeds away from a small clearing in the trees, and were excited to think that we were going to have a secret place to call our own. I remember sitting in it after we had the walls up, a space that was probably 3′ × 4′, and feeling like we had accomplished something. It was short lived, because after the first rainstorm, the walls folded in. I believe every child desires to have a place; some are built with blankets hanging over a table. I think everyone of our brood of six had such a place. I can remember hearing them, the giggling, thrilled about their hiding place. Of course, no one knew where they were! When our firstborn was a teenager, he had a place on the mountain side not too far from our home. There was a rock jutting out from the slope with a small flat area where he would sit. That’s where he went to be by himself, to contemplate life and to work out his problems. It was ‘His Place!’
Even the places that obviously are not ours, but we may call them ours if we got to them first and then made them a part of our life, they become our place. For example, when sitting at the family dinner table, we better not try to take another’s place. We even have our place in the family car, at church, sports events and/or at the theater. Those, of course, are only ours for the one event, but we will defend it as ours during that event.
There are those who have no home and move around from place to place with everything they own on their backs. That backpack essentially becomes ‘their place.’
If they have to take it off, they will not take their eyes off of it for fear of losing their ‘place.’ I have always had an office where I have worked, and everything I needed to do for my job was there, laid out handy for when I needed it. One time I walked in my office and another person was sitting at my desk, using my phone. For a brief moment I felt like I had been violated. I had to let them know that they were sitting at ‘my desk’ (my place).
They quickly apologized and stepped away. They knew exactly how I felt because they, too, had a ‘place,’ and they, too, probably had their place violated at one time or another by someone being insensitive to their ‘place.’
The ‘place’ may be just an end of a couch with a sewing basket setting near by. It may be a rocking chair or a Lazy-Boy or it could be one side of a double bed. Everybody has a place they consider to be their very own, a place where they have the things they need to be comfortable and where they know that they will have some reprieve from the rest of the world. I believe that a ‘place’ is important to maintain one’s mental stability. As I wrote ‘mental stability,’ I thought, “that sounds a little strong.” Then I thought about not having a ‘place’ or having my ‘place’ destroyed or hav- ing someone take it from me! Then I knew that ‘mental stability’ was not too strong an expression at all. After all, we are individu- als with unique likes and dislikes, and as we interact with other unique people, every day, it takes a toll on our nerves. We may be what others consider a saintly person, Mr. or Mrs. Congeniality.
A person who can always be counted on, one willing to take any and all assignments they are asked to do, the one who will go the extra mile to help out—it doesn’t matter one little bit, how congenial a person is—they still need their space, their place, “My Place.” As nice people, we have to give and take, and not always to our comfort. When the day is over and we come home to our place, we unwind. We say to ourselves, now I don’t have to give anymore today, and I can just sit if I want. Because, I am in ‘My Place.’ Tomorrow we will get up and again be nice and congenial and go about our giving and taking. Why? Because we had time in our ‘place.’ May Heavenly Father always protect and watch over our ‘My Places.’