Let me take you back in time; it’s September of 2012. I had business to tend do in the Puget Sound area, so I travel to my new home on my own. It’s late at night and it just so happens to be fire season. As I drive along the Columbia River, I notice lightening strikes flash across the sky. Funny, it wasn’t raining. The mile markers indicate I have a long way to go…
My mind drifts off, thinking about my previous visit to this place I will call home. James and I made a trip with an older couple from the Snohomish area in early August. I know the man, Ralph, from our ecclesia. He is a quiet, thoughtful man, but sad, as though he is waiting for God to take him off this planet. He checks in with me a lot in a somewhat amusing way. “How ya doing, Angel?” he asks. “Wondering how you ever got mixed up with us?” Really, I believe he was asking how I was adjusting from a urban lifestyle to a more rural, down to Earth lifestyle.
We arrive at the property and are greeted by a locked barbed wire gate. Ralph has the key and takes “gate duty.” We go just a little further and encounter another gate. I ponder the effort of opening, driving thru and closing the gate if one is on their own. I instantly blow that thought away, after all, we are just here to take a look. Two more gates and a journey on a long, dry, sandy canyon road and we reach the structure. The living structure is a two story unfinished, offgrid cabin. We go upstairs and the first thing I notice is broken glass. We were warned that we might encounter that. The cabin appeared as though squatters might have occupied the place. I would say not the neat and clean type either. All over there was, well, trash. Whether it was food trash or what have you, trash, everywhere. But, alas, I am just visiting, not my problem, really. The kitchen was naked; no kitchen sink, no cupboards or counter tops. I spotted electrical outlets with the guts hanging out of the wall; whether they worked I did not know. The floor was unfinished as well; OSB (oriented strand board) covered with dust.
Downstairs, the floor was an unfinished cement slab. Again, more squatter trash on top of what I’m guessing was a workbench. Amongst the clutter were old appliances that looked like they had seen better days. I thought how odd the placement of the bathroom was. The bathroom tub looked like a scene from a haunted house. Noticeably absent was a toilet and a sink.
Just then, a strong wind gust crashes against the side of the car and causes the car to drift. The lightening strikes continue to light up the sky. It is a long and lonely drive on this highway at night. At least I don’t have to fight the oncoming headlights.
My thoughts shift back to the condition of the cabin. There is an attached garage/workshop. The very high garage door is broken, probably a good spot for the birds to come in. There are several sets of bull racks that are loaded with “stuff”, including rat feces. But, it is still just a visit.
I don’t know Ralph’s wife, Shirley, very well. She is not an active member of the ecclesia. I got to know the woman a little better on this trip. She liked to work with her hands and make porcelain dolls. Shirley also teaches classes out of her home-based workshop. As I learn about her life, I learn about the property. The property is owned by another couple, Bill and Jan, also elders of our ecclesia. I just started attending the ecclesia and it was immediately apparent that Bill was the elder who lead the group. As we fight off the yellow jackets, Shirley goes on to explain that there are snakes here. “Not just any kind of snake,” she says, “but rattlesnakes.” Little does she know I have an extreme phobia of snakes. I focus on taking in the breathtaking scenery. After all, this is just a visit…
My mind shifts back to the weather as yet another tumbleweed blows across the highway and an intense gust of wind violently shakes the car.
Almost there! Communication via cell phone from the main gate is nonexistent. Luckily, we have radios in the rigs. I am greeted by James and we make our way up to the cabin. Four gates must be opened and closed as we make the drive thru the pitch black canyon. I enter the cabin and brother, Mike, says “hello.” The guys arrived a few hours ahead of me. They had unloaded the trucks and trailers. Also, James had taken care of some of the trash that I recalled from “the visit.” This time, it is not just a visit. This is going to be home. It is going to take a bit to make it home, but home it is and the adventure has only just begun!
