carpe diem

The beautiful bench that once adorned my cabin has been relocated to our new home.

 When it arrived here, its pink flowers, green ivy, cream backdrop looked foreign to the room in which it was placed. It did not belong there.

 For many years, the bench was the centerpiece in my little cabin across the road, a place that had hosted countless hours of deep discussions, friendship building, as well as solitary quiet for many souls. The cabin stood for hospitality as well as solitude and silence.

The bench was placed in the room that has replaced the cabin in the last few years. This room has taken on its own ambiance; it is a testimony to change: a new season and a new place. As much as I loved the old cabin, I was in the process of relinquishing the past the cabin represented . . . without realizing it.

I delight in the memory of what was.

I remember how God had inspired the idea of making the old dusty granary into a “cabin” where others could come, find rest, fellowship, solitude. That cabin was hallowed by God’s presence in His people who came, shared a cup of coffee/tea as they shared their lives, or in those who came to be silent, alone, and listen to God’s voice of comfort, direction, or restoration.

And, although I find comfort in the memory of the past, I am forced to deal with the present. By the time Sara called me last week and asked if she and Josh could use the cabin as a schoolroom, I was prepared, ready to relinquish my dream.

Despite our fondest dreams, time has a way of moving beyond what once was and is no longer. For days, the bench invaded my space. The bench that I loved sat in front of me demanding that I deal with it. Deal with the idea that what I once felt was my calling to offer a place for solitude and quiet may be different today.

Change has a way of becoming either our friend or our enemy.  We are forced to either deal with it, deny it, fight it, or acquiesce to its force and become passively fatalistic.

I choose to deal with the idea that, despite changes in my life, God is still walking before me and inviting me to listen and watch for the next steps He may direct.

What comfort! God is in charge of time: my time as well as the time of our nation and the time of our world.

Footnote: The cabin will still be available for guests who want to spend some time in silence, prayer, and solitude. For scheduling call Troyers at 785-537-0828.