We have an apartment which we made available to our grown kids when they were ready to be on their own. The boys were able to get through college with relatively low college loans because they were willing to live in the small apartment on our property. After each graduation, I had secretly hoped that the apartment would be vacated and could become my refuge; a place where Paul and I could go to talk together for an evening, or a quiet place to read and think when I need it. However, Paul Burton will be staying in the apartment and has two more years of medical school. After that, Kathryn is eying the apartment as her future home.
I don't know when the idea first began, but Paul has been seriously thinking of building me a little writing cabin on our property. It wouldn't be a very big cabin, just big enough to have a space to call my own; a retreat at the edge of the woods. This weekend we paced off the area that we thought would be perfect and went out to that spot with our lawn chairs and a cup of coffee. It felt right. We sat in the sunshine sipping coffee and imagined where the front door and windows would be. The plans are somewhere out in the future, but we have been waking up mornings feeling excited about it. I dream of sitting inside the little cabin writing without interruption, while he thinks of ways to make the cabin airtight and how to provide electricity by using solar energy.
We've been sketching, dreaming, taking stock of the materials we already have on the property, and hoping that we can soon start this project in little baby steps. I called Paul the other day because I found a poem about a cabin and read it to him over the phone. He enthusiastically remarked that I should write out the poem and frame it to be hung later in the cabin when the walls are up.
Is there somewhere,
a little, lonesome cabin
lost among the forests
on a wild, deserted shore;
an empty, waiting cabin:
rough-hewn, worn, and solid
with a dandy-drawing chimney,
books and windows little more
I'm tired of noise and traffic,
people pushing, phones and letters,
dates and deadlines, styles and headlines,
pride and pretense, nothing more;
and I'm needing such a cabin,
near God's masterpiece of mountains,
such a lost and lonesome cabin
where a tired soul can adore. -Ruth Bell Graham
The Cabin Site:
An idea; a dream; a possibility.