The vision for our home began almost 15 years ago on the back of a cocktail napkin, over a glass of wine. Tom and I sat at a corner table in Paradise Lodge at Mt. Ranier and began imagining what the home we hoped to build might look like. Over time I found pictures in magazines that captured the look I was after, and when the time came, we engaged an architect to turn our cocktail napkin into house plans. Plans in hand, we went about the process of finding the right builder. We talked to three of them. The first one, when we asked him for a bid, said, "I don't do bids." Not our guy. The second one looked at our plans, and said, "Ka-Ching!" Definitely not our guy. Then we met Bob. As we sat around his kitchen table and talked through the drawings and our hopes for our home, he pushed his chair back and said, "If we work together, my goal is that I will want to invite you to our annual Halloween Costume Party when we're done." Bob was our guy. 

When you build a home, there are so many practical and aesthetic decisions to be made. Lighting. Cabinetry. Paint colors. Window trim. Flooring. Appliances. It is hard not consumed by how the home will look, and easy to forget how you want it to feel and what you want to happen there. Don't get me wrong, I had very strong opinions about how I wanted it to look, and Bob quickly caught my vision. When there was a decision to be made about whether to go with plan A or plan B for a particular aspect, I usually wasn't on site to actually see what Bob was talking about. So I would ask him, "Bob, which would I like? A or B?" He always knew the answer. And, he was always right. But the truth is, I spent a lot more time imagining how I wanted our home to feel rather than how it would to look. How did Tom and I want people to feel when they came to visit? What did we want to have happen there when people came together under our roof? What kinds of conversations did we envision happening as family and friends gathered around the outdoor fireplace in the morning for coffee? 

The more I imagined the answers to those questions the more clear they became. Our home would be a place of rest, renewal, and redemption. It would be a place of love, laughter, and listening. It would be a place of grace, healing, and extravagant welcome. Our home would be a shelter from the storms that would blow through the lives of those we love, a place where people could tell their stories and be heard, and share their pain and be seen. I began to imagine  people in front of the fireplace that hadn't yet been built. I saw them sitting in as yet to be purchased Adirondack chairs out in the field as the sun went down. They were gathered around the table we didn't yet own, sharing good food, good wine, and good conversation. 

Everything that happened in my mind's eye now happens under our roof. The place has its own spirit, and the home we affectionately call "the cabin" continues to work its magic. It's like it knows how to care for those inside its walls. If those walls could talk, they would tell the accumulated stories of healing and forgiveness, grief and grace, wonder and wounds, successes and failures, and of love and loss. Truthfully, we stewards of our home more than owners. It doesn't belong to us, it belongs to everyone that comes here, and to the Spirit that turned what was imagined into what is real.

When it comes to building a home, there's more to it than meets the eye. The same is true when it comes to building a life. When we spend time not only doing what it takes to build it, but also imagining what we want it to feel like, and what we want it to offer to the world, the way it can all come together is practically magic.

PS We still go to Bob-the-builder's Halloween Costume party. 

When you build a home, there are so many decisions to be made, and it can be easy to get consumed by how the home will look, and forget how you want it to feel. Don't get me wrong, I had very strong opinions about how I wanted it to look, and Bob quickly caught my vision. When there was a decision to be made about going with plan A or plan B for a particular aspect, I often wasn't on site to actually see what Bob was talking about. So I would ask him, "Bob, which would I like? A or B?" And he always knew the answer. And, he was always right. But the truth is, I spent a lot more time imagining how I wanted the cabin to feel when we lived there, than how I wanted it to look. How did Tom and I want people to feel when they came to visit? What did we want to have happen there when people came together under our roof? What kinds of conversations did we envision happening as family and friends gathered around the outdoor fireplace in the morning for coffee? 

The more I imagined the answers to those questions the more clear they became. Our home would be a place of rest, renewal, and redemption. It would be a place of love, laughter, and listening. It would be a place of grace, healing, and extravagant welcome. Our home would be a shelter from the storms that would blow through the lives of those we love, a place where people could tell their stories and be heard, and share their pain and be seen. I began to imagine  people in front of the fireplace that hadn't yet been built. I saw them sitting in as yet un-purchased Adirondack chairs out in the field as the sun went down. They were gathered around the table we didn't yet own, sharing good food, good wine, and good conversation. 

Everything that happened in my mind's eye now happens under our roof. The place has it's own spirit, and the cabin continues to work it's magic. It's like it knows how to care for those under its roof, and has accumulated stories of healing and forgiveness, grief and grace, wonder and wounds, successes and failures, and love and loss. Truthfully, I feel like Tom and I are stewards of our home more than owners. It doesn't belong to us, it belongs to everyone that comes here.

When it comes to building a home there's more to it than meets the eye. The same is true when it comes to building a life. When we spend time imagining what we want it to feel like, and what we want our life to offer to the world, the way it can all come together is practically magic.

PS We still go to Bob-the-builder's Halloween Costume party.