Today I’m featuring a guest post by Patricia Durgin.

When my husband David and I lived in Chattanooga, sometimes I’d be overwhelmed with pain.

The effects of childhood abuse lingered long after I accepted Christ. I was still interacting with my birth family and those conversations could send me into a tailspin of anguish and confusion that lasted for weeks.

Those were my “growing up” years, spiritually. I was learning how to trust God in deeper ways and that was H-A-R-D! Learning how Biblical principles played out in real life. Learning how to be a good mother without having received good mothering.

Plus life’s normal issues.

Periodically, it would just be too much. I felt the need to escape, to get “above it all.” I had to find a place to breathe again.

Christ helped me find it. In a beautiful neighborhood near Missionary Ridge, there was a bridge linking two parts of the neighborhood together. The bridge was a freeway overpass, and it was soooo high: 50 feet or more! (Though looking down from the highest point on the bridge, it seemed like 500 feet.)

It was situated in a bend in the freeway. West-bound drivers climbed a rise and when they reached the summit, the city lay below, displayed in all its beauty.

(It’s rare to see more than a few miles into the distance in Chattanooga, because the mountains that surround it block the view here, there, and everywhere.)

The overpass–and the bridge I stood upon–spanned that summit. Oh, the view! And the wind! It was crazy…whipping around the side of that mountain!

It was a metaphor, played out in real life. In that high sanctuary, I saw the dangers below, safe from them. Watching the world go by at 75+ miles an hour, I stood still as it whooshed past.

Just what I needed. As the wind blew, I felt it carried my pain with it. Jesus cleansed me and healed me on that bridge. He was there, serving me, loving me, helping me.

I’d stay there for hours. Back then, a fire station was located right off the bridge. Periodically they’d come out to see if I was still there. (Sometimes people jumped from that overpass.)

If I told David I was, “Going to the bridge,” he knew 1) I was deeply troubled, 2) he wouldn’t see me for a good while, and 3) when I returned, I’d have worked out my problems, with God’s help.

We moved away from Chattanooga 16 years ago. I miss my sanctuary in the sky.

Would I revisit it? Yes, if given the chance, but not for the same reasons. The wounds that drove me there are long healed by Christ’s tender mercies.

I thank God for that freeway overpass. The solitude, peace, and intimacy He offered me in that special place are ever in my heart.