winnebago house | a slice

the counter space in the kitchen faces expansive windows
and in the evening hours that golden glimmering light spreads itself across
faux wood counter tops, making the vegetables glow on the cutting board
while i chop, smell, toss, sprinkle them into dinner form
that i'll sit down to eat with the love of my life after he's come home
sometimes he'll perch on the counter nearby,
carefully chosen melodies streaming from his mac book
and we'll keep company this way
and every day

the spaces are wide here and there is light from every direction
we've got art on every wall that doesn't necessarily match
and it is quiet, 'cept when you can hear the heavy-footed walking
or the father-son wrestling from the flat above us,
mostly only in the early mornings and the evenings

a neighbor to the west and a neighbor to the east
both have magnolia trees with sweet fragrances wafting and
the alley behind us is lined by the backs of darling homes
with top-level units and their tiny little porches
(there are so many baby-sized houses here)
and i wonder about the folks who occupy them and
how we can get them to come to our open-doored home
and engage with the presence of the Lord who reigns here
i want them to come in
to the under-used community flat with it's exposed-brick walls
just waiting, groaning and empty for folks to
dance, talk, laugh, pray their little hearts out in its embrace

this place used to be a meth lab before
it was purchased, gutted, restored, and re-purposed
i'm a sucker for a redeemed house

three months from now the inhabitants of this house
will have almost entirely turned over
there'll be new faces of hand-picked disciples
and intentional investment in the work of community
and the practices of boiler room kingdom-building in full swing
we are standing on the brink of these things
and we are breathless with anticipation

(and maybe,
if i dare to believe that God may so bless me,
i'll be entrusted with some responsibilities
resembling that of an abbess
here)