My Shack 

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The following was written a year ago after I stumbled upon one of the biggest miracles I’ve ever experienced.  This place is a piece of heaven on earth. A sacred place where Gods love lives if He gave it an earthly address. The thing is. . .He had to tell someone to build it. And they had to be obedient. Thank you Bud and Lynda Lynn for your obedience And my great blessing: 

A few years ago, probably more than a few- actually- I read the book “The Shack. ” It touched me deeply. . . The themes of God being real in our lives in the form of three persons– of him very literally inviting us on adventures and intimate journeys with him, and the miracle of finding the truth of who Christ is in the form of our deepest loss made a mark on my heart. And I said to God- “I wish you would do that for me one day. . . ” but in my heart I did not believe He would. I didn’t think God would choose to be that literal with me. An actual note in my mailbox. An actual cabin and “shack” in the woods, an actual serene lake outing with Jesus. That was fiction. And for some reason, in my mind, God had decided to leave that sort of direct, burning bush style communication in a far away land called the Old Testament. 
But in the days after Ellis’ homecoming, I did get a postcard in the mail. I tried to dismiss it but I could not . Because every cell in my body reacted to it in a way that only happens when creation responds to its creator. That same day I bought a rose print backpack equally mysteriously. And I knew that note that began “my fellow adventurer” was just a hint of what it would come to mean. But it remained a mystery. 

I continued on the hard work of getting reconciled, battling up, grounding and surrounding, and storytelling. . . The next song to sing, the next step of obedience. . . That next hard first or sweet truth. . . I put that adventure note in the back of my mind . . . 

Until I arrived at the cabin in Branson . . . Only seeing that little shack of a chapel sprinkled with roses. . . With reminders of Jesus always with his children. . . Rose crowns and thorn crowns. . .angels and babies. . . But a very intentional touch of vintage pink roses everywhere. . .and He whispered check out the woods behind. . . And there’s a cross crowned in a garland of pink roses. . . I ran to the front of the chapel and tried to jerk open the door but it was locked. I soaked in the grounds of the chapel and knew every bit was for me. I peeked in the window like a child and could tell there were real short pews but not much else. 

The next morning I laced up for a run but God whispered to try the trail at our condos. . . It led to a private, serene lake much like the one I had imagined years before . . . And Jesus was there. 

When I returned the chapel was open and just as I knew it would. . . It blew me away. Vintage rose curtains, little paper roses mounted on pew ends. . . Everywhere I looked – a very specific symbol of something significant between me and Ellis or me and God or all of us. . . A place perfectly prepared. . . Like no other. . . By no other. . . It was a romantic scavenger hunt. . .a dance. . . A peek a boo game laced with surprises. . . The final one would happen the next morning when I would go there there to worship with my family and look down to see a replica of my childhood bible. . . From my baptism that occurred after a holy moment in a patch of woods outside a rustic chapel. . . Singing the beginning and the end . . . And knowing He is the God of both sacred times. . . And knowing for sure that He gives us the desires of our heart in ways we would never expect. I am glad He has allowed my heart to stay open to all He has. . . For a tribe who protects my life with endless rings of sweetness in prayers we call donuts. . . And for going ahead and doing that which I doubt He will – – just to show me who He is and how magnificently He loves me. . .

#EG41

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