In Oklahoma, we know what that means. It means that a high pressure system is sitting right on top of us. It means that the atmosphere has a lid right over our heads, a lid that allows the sun’s rays to find their way in but never out. It means that you can fry an egg on the sidewalk, or cook dinner on your car hood if you wanted to.
His shoulders slumped slightly, as if he carried the world on them. Quiet at first, but when I asked about his younger siblings, he spoke up, telling humorous stories about his attempts to keep them somewhat out of trouble. The conversation shifted to his dad, and the quiet returned. Alcoholic, violent, angry. When dad was awake, the kids hid. In their rooms, the garage, under the porch. One day a neighbor saw the kids playing and brought them some lemonade. A conversation started. Over time, they felt safe. Then one night, when they needed a hiding place, they ran to the neighbor’s house. There are new challenges now, but no hiding. No drunken rage.
Some kids feel heat and pressure every single day. It doesn’t go away when the seasons change. But it can be relieved when we are willing to be a refuge, a safe place for those around us who need it.
Will you be a refuge?