Working on the lakehouse…working on me

Many months ago I wrote about an old house on the lake that Erick and I happened upon during our search for a possible place to buy. We were both drawn to this one special old place in spite of the condition of the house, the yard, the two little outbuildings, the driveway…you get the picture πŸ™‚ Standing on the point, the rounded grassy area that takes you all the way to the water’s edge, feeling the cool, gentle breazes as they lifted the rustling leaves of the tall trees overhead pulled at each of us. Glancing back to the little house underneath the giant, towering canopy of trees, I felt I was glimpsing home…

So funny to me how “things” can speak to us this way, especially how a place like this can speak the same thing to a married couple and join them/us on a journey, an adventure, an endeavor when only a short while back we had no idea this was coming.

Months went by after seeing the place before we were able to actually buy it. We talked it over a million times, weighed the pros and cons, discussed and tried talking ourselves out of it only to find ourselves coming back together again, thinking maybe this would be a good thing for our family.

We both prayed over the matter as we do all others. I never want to take something into my own hands, into my life, that is not given to me from the very hands of the Lord. I want no thing that would ever be outside of His will for us, for our family.

It appeared at one point that someone else was buying. They made a higher offer than what we could make. It was settled, or so we thought…and then we learned the owners refused the offer, and accepted ours. I’m still not sure how that happened!

Nevertheless, we closed on the old place in November. The rainy Winter of 2012/13 revealed a leaking roof…in many places. So open is the house, a Mama and Daddy bird nested and hatched their babies in the upstairs bathroom before we got a new roof put on. What was going to be a “patch it up; enjoy it for a while; remodel later” has become a “this can’t wait” list of must-needs that we are addressing one by one.

In spite of it all, there is a peace when I am there most of the time. Don’t misunderstand, I surely get rattled and anxious with so much torn out and a seemingly endless list of things to do, but even with all of this disturbance, I find myself longing to be there, to see it through, to sit in the swing a while and look at the water; to listen to the geese. I can’t describe what goes on inside my heart when I watch from a distance, Noah, soaking up the place like it is a much-needed drink of cool, refreshing water. He walks and runs and climbs. He picks up sticks, rocks, critters, shells. He explores and plays, then, he rests…There, my little boy is content.

Erick works long hours then grabs his fishing pole and heads to the water’s edge for a little fishing, Noah on his heels saying, “wait for me Dad, I’ll help you catch some!” Seeing the two of them silhouetted by the setting sun’s softening glow after a long day surrounded by nature’s green and glistening water, lends peace to my mind and heart, it whispers, “all is well.”

How can a heart not be thankful when God gives the richness of His blessings, one after another, all our lives. I remember back, as I toil in my new, old place on the lake, sweeping pine needles as a child under the canopy of similar giant trees. I remember the quiet of nature’s hush and the dreams and stories my mind spun as I worked, as I played, outside. There is a connection being made over and over again as I mend and repair what is broken and too long left unattended. I’m remembering back to those early years when the vast woods did not seem daunting. They were a welcome every day that I was blessed to enter them, to tidy with my broom, to drag sticks from place to place pretending they were walls or furniture or friends πŸ™‚ I am remembering a time when time seemed it stretched forever ahead of me, when I could not fathom beyond those woods and the small house that was my home; the few people that inhabited my small world…and now, all grown up, I find solace in familiar things, in places that need tending and in working with my hands to brighten and refresh.

I hope Noah learns lessons of patience, of seeing beyond what is to what can be with diligence as he sees our hard work revive and restore a home. I hope he learns the value of togetherness, of long days outside in Summers spent on the water fishing with his dad and cuddling with his mom in the swing. I hope he finds a sense of home that goes far beyond buildings or appearances. I hope, on the lake and in our house on the hill, too, that Noah finds childhood to be a grand place of adventure where love abounds…

Good thoughts, I really wanted to share.

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