Abandoned House

Isn't it ironic how sometimes we need to go backward before we can move forward? I wrote this piece several years ago when we lived in the beautiful farm country of Wisconsin.  This was the day I decided to trust that God's plan for my life was better than my own plans.  Revisiting our altars of remembrance--line in the sand moments--is necessary, as life likes to throw us curve balls.

I have my very own abandoned house.  It happens to be an old country home on a beautiful piece of property with a winding driveway with pine trees lining the drive.  I found it, a fact which kind of makes it mine.  Because it’s on my running route on a back country road, I have slowly claimed it, little by little, as I waited patiently for a For Sale or No Trespassing sign to be posted, to no avail.

This summer the grass grew high, and sometimes I would walk part way up the driveway just to take a peek at the unmaintained beauty of the place.  Once I took my husband, and we ventured all the way up to the house where I persuaded him to pick a few lilacs from the lilac tree for a party I was hosting.  It seemed a shame to let their beauty go to waste where no one could see or smell them.  It appears that I am both a trespasser and a thief!

As the months have passed, my bravery has grown.  Yesterday on my fall run, I was drawn to the abandonment of the place.  I made a sudden change of plans and turned into the driveway, crunching pine needles underfoot as I ran all the way to the house.  I needed to be alone, needed to hear silence, needed to feel abandonment from my own self.

The long grass had fallen over and was turning brown, so I crunched my way through the back yard.  I dared myself to enter the rolling woods with yellow, red and orange leaves softly blowing from the towering oak trees creating a blanket of beauty on the forest floor.  Entering my new world of abandonment felt both dangerous and freeing.  I turned off my iPod so I could hear every noise (and for the slim chance that I might have to defend myself should a person mysteriously appear and scare me half out of my mind.)

This afternoon I was drawn back to my abandoned house.  I realized that I am wholly free from restraint, just as the property is, when I am in its presence.  I ventured further into the woods, coming upon two of the largest oak trees I have seen.  As I lay on the green moss next to a blanket of colorful leaves, I stared up at the size and strength of the trees.  I found it impossible to not worship God as His presence filled me with awe and wonder.

I realized more clearly that God is asking me to live my life in total abandonment of self and, instead, in total surrender to Him.  I realized that true abandonment requires me choosing to give up myself, unequivocally, to the control of God, never again claiming a right to what has been given up.  A true abandoned house in the hands of a faithful Owner.

As I left my abandoned property this afternoon, I secretly acknowledged that it did not belong to me.  It had not chosen to be abandoned, it belonged to no one.  I, on the other hand, had a choice to make as I clicked on my iPod and shuffled back down the crunchy pine needled drive.

Stay the Course...

Sheila Cote'