Place is vulnerable.

Places are vulnerable. Perfect Eden encountered the decay of sin. Two towers ingested two plane bullets and fell. Lives in places are vulnerable. We don't know what will happen. The alarm melodies at 5:50am. We don't know what the living will be. It's ok to not know. It's that place of dependence over and over again. That place that is vulnerable.

I remember as a young boy leaving Charlotte each summer for our family week at the beach. North Myrtle Beach. Windy Hill. The Shorecrest Motel. A dump by today's standards, but such a sweet place in my memory. There were 5 or 6 tomato plants planted at the end of our driveway at 4828 Carousel Dr. I have this distinct memory of coming home from our week at the beach and seeing the tomato plants. It always seemed like that week at the beach each summer was the time the tomatoes decided to grow the most. Clumps of tomatoes growing together with different hues of red orange. I remember, even as a kid, turning into our driveway as we returned from our trip and noticing multiplied growth. I wasn't using those words, but somehow my heart was aware of it. I can still picture it. That was 40 years ago.

We're beginning again.

Our latter years at Story Cottage in Knoxville contained an intimate tale. The tale of Story Garden. Lea and I had never had an actual designated space for a garden. As Lea was helping us to learn about body stewardship, we decided that we wanted to try. On Tuesday October 13th, 2015, we spread wood chips over a spot in our back yard to begin a process of rest and nourishment in our Knoxville soil. We were guided by a special friend who humbly served us by being our soil coach. As we spread the newspaper and wood chips, we didn't know what would happen. Places are vulnerable. There is invitation to trust. Invitation to labor. Invitation to dream. The Trinity intimacy that grew for Lea and me in our years in Story garden is primarily known with no words. It is a holy remembering. I think that is partly due to God allowing places to be vulnerable. Just like hearts in places are vulnerable.

A couple of Saturdays ago we started again. We're not trying to re-create Story Garden at Beacon Hall. We are stepping out to create at Beacon Hall. We have labored hard on the grounds of Beacon Hall on Signal Mountain in these first three months. It has been so special and so stirring to create with Lea. God's ground has reminded us of the invitation to trust. The invitation to labor. The invitation to dream. The invitation to intimacy. There she is up there. Almost 4 years from the first picture. We officially began the process of rest and nourishment of our Signal soil. We don't know what will happen. Places are vulnerable. Hearts in places are vulnerable. I feel that. You?

So, rest good soil.

Be nourished good soil.

I notice your courage princess.

And we wait.

Soil stirring.

Soul stirring.

There's more.