Casa Abandonada

Last summer when I was running like a BOSS, I would run to the Casa Abandonada (Abandoned House) in Mogollon.   There was something about arriving there (puffing and sweating and gasping and sucking air in) and wandering through the roofless rooms, the beautiful stained blue floors covered with dry leaves and the cool balcony with no stairs.   You can see where the kitchen was and the yellow bathroom with blue shower and a patio out back.   There is a long driveway with palm trees on either side, mango trees all over, oranges/lemons/chinolas abounding, a ricola (small canal) out front  and behind the house, a river of wildness spilling its water over rocks and gurgling under more mango trees and a view of the mountains and clouds in the distance.   The vista is tremendous.  Being there feels like being the only person in the universe.   Like you and God have this cool secret.

You can feel that there was HOPE and  PLANS and HAPPINESS there, it was a house that someone loved.   And now....... no one remains.    It reminds me of when I was looking for a house in the States and I would see some complete bowsers.... but my personality is to see POTENTIAL and so I would say things like “well, it needs a little work.. but it’s got good BONES- I think I can work with it”.   And I think you can say that about the Casa Abandonada too.   She’s been through a lot- her roof is gone.   Some of the walls are covered in vines.   The trees are overgrown, there are bushes coming in the windows, which don’t have any glass or panes or jallousies anymore.    But she’s got Good Bones.   

It had been months now since I had been to the Casa Abandonado (let alone that I’ve gone running).    Physically...and spiritually and emotionally, I could always use a little work.   I can see what USED TO BE.   I can see that I’ve been through some stuff.  Some good, some bad, some mindblowingly phenomenal.  Some of my walls may have crumbled a little bit.   Oh and my eyebrows are way overgrown.    There are some pounds that have arrived that were uninvited.  I feel old sometimes, not so valuable, a little tired.  But I also know MORE than I did back when the roof was on so tight.   I've got YEARS under my belt of knowing how the rain will fall sometimes.   My blue floor can still shine, just needs a little clearin' here and there.  I know there was and IS HOPE AND PLANS AND HAPPINESS. 

I was at the Casa Abandonada this week- I walked there.  I didn’t run.  But the blue stained floors still had a little color gleaming through the dead leaves.    I heard the river calling me and I walked down the long shady driveway with palm trees on either side of me and the grandules swaying in the breeze in the field.   I sat on the rocks and watched the water swirl around me.  Then I climbed up on the countertop in the house and stared at the view out the window while the vines tangled up in my feet.   There were some tears shed.... tears of disappointment that maybe everything ISN’T always what I want it to be, that maybe I’m NOT what I wanted myself to be.   But there were also tears of gratitude.   That I’m WHERE I’m supposed to be, wrestling for what I believe is right.   That the rain will fall and drip all over but that my walls are still standing- the foundation is FIRM.  That God is IN it and He VALUES me, He loves me- shaggy eyebrows and all.    The thing is- I have Good Bones.   I was CREATED for days to sit in the Casa Abandonada and just BE.    YES I’m a little worn out, I get tired more easily, woeful things bring me down.   But I’m equipped for it.   I’ve got experience at this and I know there are days coming when there will be a new roof and glorious windows and the mangos will be hanging heavy on the branches with sweet juice dripping and little boys tossing rocks to knock them down.   This is a house well loved.    And so am I.  

I still dream a teeny little dream about living in the Casa Abandonada.  Totally impractical.  Pipe dream sort of stuff.   Growing basil and tomatoes out back and listening to the river at night and having a chinola vine winding its way up to the balcony where I’d have coffee in the morning overlooking the mountain view.    The realities of mosquitos and no power and commuting distance are lost on me.   :)  Because I RELATE to the Casa Abandonada.   What was, what is, what could be.   We remember together, this little house and I.   There IS hope and plans and happiness.  Now.  We know we have Good Bones.   We hope and we wait and we relish the times of laughter and blue gleaming floors and suck all the juice out of the glorious moments and we are expectant for those times to come again.   And again.  And again.   

Micah 7:7 But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord,    I wait for God my Savior;    my God will hear me.