I dream of the day when I can build a place where folks can come to stay, to heal, to rest their souls and let the tangled strings of life unwind. Where, once they have a time to get them uncoiled, they can straighten things out, make some good decisions, and get back into life. Renewed, restored, filled with hope and purpose.
I dream of feeding them good food and giving them quiet and beauty. If they stay long, offering them meaningful work – helping with creating provision, comfort, and beauty for all. Letting them see their value away from the ratrace.
I dream of having enough to share in such a way that my people can come and rest and revive themselves without hurry. That I can create a retreat, a place to come when life crumbles down.
I dream of having plenty of room – no one wants to heal on top of other people, you can’t let the strings of your mind uncoil freely if you have to keep the social facade in place. You need room to cry, to laugh, to mourn. I dream of having beauty enough to share, places to sit and talk and watch the stars, or walk by a stream or wander the garden. I dream of long talks followed by long silences, watching those I care for lose their tension and unfold their hearts.
I dream of creating a true retreat, a place outside the crash and crush of normal existence, a place apart, a place welcoming.
It’s a good dream, and I have the skills to create such a place… but I do not have the place or the time or the money to build it.