Although I’m never surprised by God’s involvement in the minute details of our lives, it’s no less staggering to witness on vivid display.
After our offer was officially accepted, we spent the next couple weeks making trips back and forth to the farmhouse to meet with potential contactors, walk the grounds exploring, picnic just for fun. I’d given a lot of thought to Barbara, the lady who’d built and loved this place so well the last 18 years. She seemed such a kindred soul and I so wanted to pepper her with questions about the history of this place. I knew that was very unlikely, especially given the emotion involved... but one evening just at dusk we pulled into the drive to an unexpected car. We had no idea she’d be there and despite our call, no one had told her we were coming.
As Josh stepped away to meet a new contractor, the front door opened. I had such a mix of emotions I wasn’t sure what to do. She approached with a kind of authority I hadn’t expected, hand outstretched with a confident smile.
“Barbara. You must be. It’s so lovely to meet you,” I gushed, wrapping her in a hug without thinking.
She seemed a bit amused and apologized for her appearance. Clearly she had been packing boxes and cleaning out sheds. “Would you like to walk thru the garden?” she offered. I couldn’t hide my delight.
She pointed out different fruit trees here and there, herbs I’d never even heard of along with long lists of uses. There were perennial berry bushes, a long established asparagus patch, flowerbeds and rose bushes galore. Turns out Barbara had served as an original founder of the gorgeous Franklin, TN farmers market. It was precisely where we were headed the morning her house hit the market and rerouted our plans. She was also an avid organic gardener, quick to point out this land had never been treated with chemicals or pesticides. My heart was glowing.
As the sun sank behind the ridge the temperature dropped dramatically. Standing in front of the house nearly shivering she struck me with a question I wasn’t expecting. I had included a handwritten letter with our offer, sharing a glimpse of our heart and intentions and how honored we would be to continue her unfinished dream for this land. I'd also hinted at the astonishing details that led us to her door she likely wouldn’t even believe… but I’d never in a million years expected to be called on them. And Barbara wanted to hear the whole story.
Sitting across from her in the kitchen I wracked my brain trying to decide what to share. There were so many details. Years of prayers, years of dreams, years of hearing from God on the very specific details now literally surrounding me. How do you tell someone that your friends actually hear from God? Or that you do? I didn’t even know if this woman was a Christian, much less someone who believed in such things. I was verging on panic. This woman may very well think I’m a lunatic, I thought. Despite my hesitations I plunged ahead cautiously.
She didn’t say a word. Not one. Leaning forward in her chair, eyes narrowed and chin propped in her hand, she listening with such intensity I didn’t know when to stop talking. At a point I finally slouched back repeating over and over, “It’s crazy right? It’s just crazy. I mean, even the peach trees! Crazy. It’s just insane.”
I was relieved when she finally broke her silence.
“You know, since I married my husband I just haven’t been able to keep up with this place being an hour away now. We always thought we’d live here eventually, but it’s just never quite worked out. I’ve even tried to sell the place a couple times over the years, but the timing just never seemed right.” She cocked her head to the side remembering, “But then driving down the road recently something just said to me, you can’t serve two masters. I took that to mean my houses.”
She had my attention.
“All of a sudden I had this incredible sense of urgency that it had to be NOW. The property had to be listed immediately. We started getting it ready to list, and one day as I walked across the yard I noticed a strip of thin blue fabric at my feet. I picked it up and scrawled across it read the words ‘Watch for God.’” She motioned across the kitchen where I saw the blue strip still clipped to her fridge. She smiled at me knowingly, “And now here you are.”
Over the next few weeks I fell more in love with this darling woman. It was clear she was no stranger to hard work and was achingly proud of this place she’d built, most of it with her own two hands. She took us on a hike thru the woods one evening to see the freshwater springs and boundaries of the property, followed by homemade cider to warm up from the cold. She even sent me home with a basket of jam from the orchard down the street and homemade goat milk soap. We messaged back and forth about who cuts the hay, local co-ops, when to cut the asparagus back. She schooled me on the uses for the rose hips in the yard and lemon balm growing wild off the back porch, even the best places to build cottages in the woods. And I was nothing less than speechless when she offered a claw foot tub, half a dozen gorgeous antique doors, and stacks of building materials. I am quite literally gleaning in her fields, and it’s proving a blessing for both of us.
Though we continue to message and make plans for dinner as soon as we get settled, the last time I saw her she was loading up pots of aloe plants and offered me a slew. As Everyn and I played in the yard she took one last stroll up to the bench nestled near the edge of the woods that overlooks the property, and I could feel her pain in saying goodbye. The words she shared that day still echo in my heart, “It’s hard to leave, but I find great comfort knowing it was God who brought you here.”
There are dozens of other amazing details as well. That Barbara has a heart for adoption (and two adopted sons), that she had this land zoned agricultural so our taxes are nearly nothing so long as we cut the hay, even that the house is situated facing the back of the property so that our view is hundreds of acres of field and timber. She even had a darling little ‘workshop’ that we intend to move and transform into our first tiny cottage. And the address? Beulah Church Rd, like the old hymn, or the reference in scripture meaning ‘the Bride of Christ.’
Only God.
I got a text from her a couple weeks ago. She said she was in the area and asked if it might be okay to drive up to the house and take a look at our progress. I was one part thrilled she wanted to see it and another part terrified she might hate it. I was relieved to get a text a few hours later reading, ‘You guys have awesome ideas. Can’t wait to visit again in March and see the progress.’ The day she sits down at our table to dine is something I envision often.
I find it outright fascinating that all the years she was building, toiling, planting Spring bulbs and individually painting no less than 4,000 cedar shakes by hand for the exterior of the house (I kid you not), Josh and I were literally growing up. It’s astonishing to me. God had been setting the scene, the scene of our dreams, before we even knew it was...
The God who goes before us. He is one who weaves His dreams, His purposes, into our very DNA. And when we finally get down to joining Him in kingdom purposes we realize our dreams were His dreams first, and well, that’s a game changer.
So now what?
Well, life is changing around here… in ways great and small.
{Up Next: Going off the grid... rest, disconnecting, returning to our roots. For good. Oh and that whole dream building thing.}