Sacred Place: Our Cabin

Belden Lane quotes Lawrence Kushner (p. 37):

"The memories of a place become a part of it. Places and things
never forget what they have been witnesses to and vehicles of
and entrances for. What has happened there happened nowhere else. Like ghosts who can neither forget what they have seen nor leave where they saw it, such are the memories tied to places of ascent."

When Mary and I were first married, I read an article by a pastor that fascinated me. He and his family had bought a cabin in Minnesota, and that became their focal point, their holy ground, as they moved many places over the years, living mostly in parsonages.

That made sense to Mary and me. Unlike most cabin people, we were not interested in living on a lake. We wanted a cabin in the country, on a fair amount of land that would give us privacy, places to hike, and a place that could serve as a refuge for all kinds of wildlife.

The first day of searching we found the place of our dreams, a once Finnish farmstread on forty acres near Menahga, Mn. On October 2, 1986, while we were in St. Luke’s Hospital in Fargo, preparing to give birth to our first child, we received a call notifying us that our offer had been accepted. We named our place Blueberry River Farm, because “a river runs through it.”

Like that other pastor family, this cabin truly has become a holy place for us, on sacred ground. It is has been the place to which we have always returned, whether living in Mexico, Dunseith, N.D., Grand Forks, Fargo, or, now, Phoenix. It has been the place where our children have grown up, loving and growing to know nature. They have had about every kind of pet imaginable: turtles, frogs, toads, birds, wild cats. Thanks to a neighbor in the early years who had his own more-or-less zoo across the road from us, they also had pet geese and rabbits.

What is it that is sacred about certain places, certain spaces? Kushner says it is the memories of events that occurred in those places, and the sense in which we know that those places have witnessed and remember those events. Anthropomorphic as that is literally, it expresses the spirit of what we feel.

I have nearly countless memories of our children growing up here, of long discussions Mary and I have had in front of the fireplace as we contemplated decisions about the future, of the many friends and family who have passed through.

I feel different here. I am so much more aware of the past, of the unbelievable grace and love that have been a part of my life. I am more sensitive to the present, realizing intensely what a blessing it to be here together as a family for such an extended period of time. I feel more existentially aware of the uncertainly of life, knowing that when I leave here and return in a year many things could be much different in my life or for my family. Yet I feel also a sense of peace and submission to the future, trusting that as God has blessed and protected us in the past, God will do so in the future.

I hope to return to this holy and sacred place many times in the future, and yet I know, someday, it will be somebody else who comes here to remember, and to give thanks. I hope it will be my children, but it is not for me to decide that.

When Kushner speaks of “memories tied to places of ascent,” I see this cabin. This has been a mountaintop place for me. A place of insight and revelation. God has been in this place. God has blessed this place. God has blessed my life through this place.

What and where have been the sacred places and spaces in your life?