We join a group of others who are waiting to see the interior of a grand old house.
Walking inside, the guide leads us through the dining room and into the foyer. I am captured by the wooden carvings on the walls, staircase, built-in shelves. I run my finger along the smooth, golden brown staircase and climb up.
I quietly listen to the guide tell us the history of the home and a few stories attached. Over a hundred years old… he liked to smoke pipes, which is why the wood color is affected in the study… the furniture is original… the marble is from Italy… 20,000 square feet… 12,000 square feet for the servants quarters…lovely stained glass… after the owner moved out, the Archdiocese moved in… changed this and that… turned one section into a little chapel…and more that I simply can’t remember. (Pictures were not allowed inside).
My friend whispers aloud what I’m thinking…the imagining, the what-if the house is my own, and I hear how she’d decorate… and I dare to dream it for myself, and we bask in our own little dreams, our escapade from the real homes we inhabit. We, a group of women, grown-up, marveling at the beauty of a dwelling and dreaming a little grown-up princess dream. But we can only look at the carved cabinetry, the gracious chairs, and the coffered ceilings; we may not touch, nor sit. We may only be spectators.
Few of us really would live in a house like that. But there is no jealousy, from me, or from the friends. I enjoy the walk, the dream, the wonder, and realize that someone else lived in the dream about a hundred years ago. And I’m glad they did.
Were their lives that much different than mine? Full of ups and downs? In desperate need of a Savior, too? Rich and poor, servant and headmaster, all were in need of saving grace. Whether housed in birch wood or wispy grass, we all need Him, the world over, each generation.
I walk on pine floors in my own house and realize my walls are the same that we all face– the walls of pride and sin. He walks circles around me, blows his trumpet and the walls of sin fall, layer after layer, and He can claim my soul and offer me life. For my brief moment on earth, I’m housed in a temporary dwelling of earthen skin, but one day I will be clothed in immortality, and dine with the King himself… outwardly perishing but inwardly being renewed day by day (2 Cor. 4:16)
I have an eternal feast awaiting… and a kingdom house that awaits me.
One thing I have desired of the Lord, that will I seek: That I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in His temple. Psalm 27:4
Sharing with Laura at The Wellspring:
** Note this post was updated to add the link-up with Emily at Imperfect Prose: