Along a windswept grassy hill you may find my soul chateau.
Warm days–windows welcoming sunlit air.
Winter grey–a fire crackling.
This haven is under construction:
The interior being refreshed,
But the outside less touched up.
If you stay lawnside, evaluating, you will see many broken things:
Rusty hinges, junk parts tossed aside, weeds growing here and there,
The sign neatly printed “religious man” sun-faded and askew.
Now one Name rests over eves and entrance.
“Joshua’s carpentry, chateau renewal.”
Some very regulated folk suggest changing companies,
Concerned about that radical, un-religious, palestinian jew.
A more established builder, you suggest? More neatly dressed?
I reply that I trust him, his work.
I’ve been impressed.
Come inside and see the arches of forgiveness,
That stairwell of joy,
An unmoving foundation of hope.
Yet what I love most is the woodworking of grace.
The unseen cost is the hours he hurt me
By chipping away at that old sandstone
And all the hard oak heart logs throughout the house.
The other day the inspection crew showed up again,
Quoting rigid rules, building requirements, regulations.
They halted as he simply said,
“The foundation and building are my own.
You missed that by reading rule after rule.”
I’m tired of painting outside walls.
I’m spending more time on the inside,
Making it a place of joy,
For family, new friends, a place to welcome
Creaky kitchen doors, sandstone dust,
Oak chips flying now and then
I long for the fire to roar in this chateau,
Inside beautiful, fresh, new.
Outer garden wall, rose-covered and welcoming the wild.
My life remodeled, refurbished with a new love,
A rusty, creaky windswept love.