A few people have recently asked if this place feels like home yet.

I haven’t been sure of my answer. I know that it is home, but does it feel like home?

Lying in bed last night, I finally puzzled it out. It seems presumptuous to call this place – the old brick house, the long maple-lined drive, the falling-down barn – my home. I haven’t earned it yet.

The house has been here for more than 130 years. The farm for longer than that. The stone remains of the ice house and various other outbuildings (we’ve taken to calling them “the ruins”) testify to just how long this place has been cultivated, lived in, and cared for.

the ruins :: kitchen?

How can I waltz in and call it my home?

I need to sweep a few more floors, plant a few more trees before I can feel comfortable making that claim.

And we will plant those trees. We’ll wait for late winter or early spring, and then we’ll dig in four fruit trees. One for each of our babies.

We have plans for blueberry bushes, a few more maples to fill in the gaps, and I’m trying to decide exactly where to carve out the asparagus bed.

Did you know that asparagus can come back every spring for twenty years or more? Placing that bed is a big decision. It matters.

in the garden

Or, does it?

I can remember someone in the Christian circles of my childhood saying this: “The only things which last forever are the souls of men and the word of God.” I can’t remember who said it, and I can’t remember (or perhaps never knew) if they were quoting someone else.

I can remember, even as a kid, feeling the rift between how those words were supposed to make me feel (focused, committed, inspired) and how they actually made me feel (depressed, primarily). And now I know why: those words aren’t true. They leave out too much.

They leave out fruit trees and asparagus.

Clean floors and campfires.





God is making all things new, and our lives, our daily this and that, are a part of that great project. This is an old place, yes, but it, like all other good things, is being renewed.

In God’s kingdom, the stuff of earth can become so much more. This is true of bread and wine. It is also true of bricks and trees.

at night2

Our bricks.

Our trees.

For His glory.


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