Perry and I have not yet had a fight. After 8 months of dating, when I realized this fact, I was at first concerned. (so much so that I asked my dad if it was ok. He assured me that it was, in fact, probably a good thing… and promised that we would eventually find something to fight about) (It’s not that I particularly enjoy fighting… it just seems like it’s something normal people do with each other).

While I’m not counting down the days to our first fight, I have already decided what it will be about: a bomb shelter.

I want one, and he does not want to build me one.

It’s not that I think the world is coming to an end, we’re on the edge of impending nuclear war, or that I’m antisocial. I just think it would be cool. (And useful. It’d be a great place to store canned goods.  And a nice house for our indoor pig named “Quincy”.  That’s going to be our second fight).

Today, I could have used a bomb shelter. Between cussing customers, my yelling boss, coworkers arguing, complex bank-account questions, and dramatic interpersonal strife in my small department (which led to two people crying and one person quitting her job), a bomb shelter would have been a welcome relief.  I spent most of the day with my head down, trying to dodge the bullets firing above. I had to keep reminding myself things like “the customer is not mad at me, they’re mad at the situation” and  “stay out of the coworker drama or you’ll just get shot”. By the end of the day, I was exhausted and much in need of chocolate.

I’ve been driving without the radio on recently. It forces me to think. It gives me time to pray. It has been so good. During my ride home, as I waited for my heater to start working, I thought about how nice it would have been to have my bomb shelter (canned goods, indoor pig and all) at my call center today. I imagined the shouting and harsh words bouncing off of the cement exterior and being completely safe. But then I realized, if my bomb shelter were only at work, what would protect me the rest of the time? What about the angry person at the grocery store, or what if, when they were very tired, someone I loved spoke harsh words to me? What would I do then? I would have to build a “mobile shelter”. I wonder if you can get those on ebay.

The Lord is so good. He brought to mind someone who had often needed a bomb shelter of his own: the writer of the Psalms. He knew where to turn.

Psalm 18:2: The LORD is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of safety.

Psalm 28:7: The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to Him in song.

So, after a long cold ride back to the Fort Wayne Campus and a nice chat with God about my foolish need to build my own shelter, I sit in my Christmas-decorated living room, in front of my faux fireplace. Not cowering in a makeshift bomb shelter, but resting in the shelter of my King.

It might sound cheesy, but that is what I was reminded of today.

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