Study/Work/Eat/Rest

Wow. How many days has it been since I left? Six? It feels strangely like I have been here for a very long time, and yet in many ways the days seem to fly by and I still can’t seem to fit in everything that I want to do into a 24 hr. period.

But first, like a good writer, the setting. L’Abri is set in this huge, beautiful house in a quiet, snowy neighborhood, similarly filled with huge, beautiful houses. I thought people had to win some kind of game show or sweepstakes to be able to stay in places this beautiful. This is pretty much my ideal setting. When you first come in the wreath-adorned front door, you come into the “parlor” and encounter the first of two main wood-burning stoves. There’s a quirky gilded mirror on the wall with a funny eagle and blossoms adorning the frame. The chairs are covered in very old-fashioned floral prints and the rug on the floor looks oriental. A chess board sits on a side table.

And the rest of the house continues in like fashion. The kitchen has a huge wooden table around which we all eat and funny nooks for storing the cream pitchers. The house is full of original artwork done by past students and workers. Sconces on the wall for the electric lights. A sunken garden in the far backyard in which is buried clues to finding the secret treasure of the L’Abri house. A large, frozen over pond. A huge winding staircase in the front hall. It’s pretty much my ideal for my someday and future life, except for the size, which I think would be a little excessive for a single family.

But, I haven’t yet told you the most fantastical and wonderful part about the whole thing. The Library. No, no, not just the library, THE Library. Dark wood paneling, intricately carved over the mantel, covers the walls and forms the many, many book cases, all filled with books. Derelict old couches, surrounding the second cheerfully crackling and blessedly warm wood stove. Crystal fixtures around the wall sconces. Beautiful snatches of view into the surrounding trees and doors that open into the plant-filled conservatory. Pretty much if I had to spend the rest of my life in just one room, this would be the room I would pick.

And I haven’t even mentioned the other people yet. I was really worried about this before coming, because I very much believe that the people you’re surrounded with can make or break an experience like this. I’m really glad though that so far that hasn’t been an issue in the slightest, and the more I get to know the other people here, the more I enjoy them. Everybody is pretty thoughtful and for the most part, not afraid to express their opinions. The dynamics are different from any group I’ve ever been in before, and I think obviously part of that is to be expected because this isn’t any group I’ve been in before, and every group has their own dynamics. And part of it is that we’re just not all that familiar with each other yet, tho surprisingly more familiar than you’d expect after only six days. I think we’re going to be good friends by and by, is the bottom line.

Before I forget, I must mention that one of the drawbacks in paradise is the very limited opportunity to make it to the all glorious and connective Internet. So, perhaps, for the first time in my life, the best way to get hold of me is by...phone. Or letter, as always, but if you're in a hurry, cell phone. And, let me say, that they keep the schedule pretty darn full here, so it's hard for me much of the time to fit in calls period. It's okay. I think it's good to be hard to get a hold of now. But please be patient with me if I take a while to get back to you.

And I still have yet to tell you about my spiritual/intellectual life! That could fill an epic post of its own, so I’ll save it for another time. Suffice it to say that as usual, it seems to generally be slow, frustrating work, with intervals of even more frustrating near-enlightenment. Sometimes, when I'm pondering, or perhaps even more often when I'm not, I feel so whisper close, like I'm skating on a deep frozen pond, and at any moment I could break through the surface. And then an eyelid twitches, a branch scrapes the window, and it's gone. But. But it was almost there. And maybe, maybe it could be reached, could be understood, could be held in the hands like a deeply buried stone, finally emerging.

If you are the praying sort, pray for me that God could illumine even my dark, twisted little mind. Pray that I could be patient, with myself and with the work, and trust the process. And, if you have time left after all that, be glad for me and with me that I have found this place, which is a good place for me, and that there is yet hope.

S.