Read Online Flash by Rachel Anne Ridge - Free Book Online Page B

but I hear it does a bang-up job of numbing pain. I’ve got plenty of little “coping techniques” for stress and storms, but in reality allof them are just substitutes for true comfort. Temporary relief for my deeper problems. They are counterfeits that seem like the real thing, but in the end, don’t work.
    I was learning the hard way that counterfeits in general can get you into trouble. I’m reminded of the time not long ago when an invitation to a wedding taught me this valuable lesson. I made a last-minute stop at the store for a gift and something to wear because, as per usual, I had nothing suitable on hand. Now running late, I dashed home and threw on my new outfit, then realized the clothes I’d so hurriedly bought would show the dreaded panty lines. Yikes. I rummaged like a madwoman through my drawers and baskets for my SPANX, the miracle outfit fixer, but could not come up with it anywhere.
    Not to worry. In the deep recesses of my memory, a fashion tip I’d once heard surfaced: If you’re in a pinch for a bottom-smoother, simply cut the legs off of a pair of panty hose and slide the top part on for a perfect substitute.
    Eureka!
    I grabbed some scissors, sliced the legs away from an old pair, and put them on. Fabulous idea   —I was set. And so proud of my innovation. But perhaps I should point out that the title of this little illustration should be “Things That Seemed like Great Ideas at the Time But Did Not Live Up to Expectations.”
    The modified panty hose indeed work great in theory . . . for about the first hour. But after some time elapses, the problems set in.
    I had made it all the way through the ceremony and into the reception when I realized that my science wasn’t as sound as I’d assumed. As I stood up to get more cheese from the appetizer table, the cutoff edges of my faux SPANX rolled up to myderriere like Cuban cigars, creating a visual disaster zone. Way too much cheese, my friends.
    Mortified, I stiffly made my way to the ladies’ room for an adjustment and decided to stand for the rest of the reception. There would be no dancing that day.
    I learned, via personal humiliation, that there is no substitute for the Real Thing.
    Oh, the Bible has so much to say about the Real Thing   —the true kind of refuge that is found in its pages. It’s one of those subjects that makes my ears perk up when I hear it, maybe because I need it so often. Refuge   —something that brings comfort to the soul   —is one of our deepest needs as human beings. We long for it. And when you consider why we do the things we do, the need for refuge fuels most of the activity in the world.
    Webster’s dictionary defines refuge this way: “protection or shelter, as from danger or hardship; a source of help, relief, or comfort in times of trouble.”
    Refuge , in a practical sense, is
Safety: protection from outside forces, the “storms of life”
Secu ri ty: freedom from fear, which allows you to flourish
Sig ni fi cance: being confident in your place in the world; your contribution
Provision: having your physical, emotional, and spiritual needs met
Belon gi ng: knowing you are part of something bigger than yourself
    I thought of the times I’d experienced a vague sense of unease and unsettledness that was hard to put a finger on. And when weariness, like the kind I had when Flash showed up on our doorstep, had settled deeply in my bones. Something seemed to be missing, but what? I was going through the motions of parenting and working and serving, but I felt like there was a hole in the middle of it all. Perhaps it was the “significance” factor or the aspect of “belonging” that I wasn’t experiencing, and inside I simply longed for some kind of refuge.
    And then there were other times in which the circumstances of life were too painful to bear, when the vague unease became absolute desperation for comfort.

    I was about to turn forty, and two faint pink lines on a stick from a test kit