Greetings from Lägom Landing!
November is a month many of us wish we could skip. The sky grows grey--there’s an unforgiving smell of cold steel in the air. We start to hurry from our warm homes to our heated cars to our offices to avoid the cold slap of November.

As a builder, I haven’t always had the option of avoiding November’s cold embrace. We have been building the shell of a new home right in the heart of late Fall. The gift of November comes to those willing to turn into the wind, to enter into the mystery of a thousand shades of grey and the stark beauty of bare branches.

Light is precious this time of year. We find ourselves hurrying in the last hour of the day to get as much finished before darkness renders us unable. Yet even in our rushing, the November sunsets have brought us again and again to a standstill. As the last bit of warmth drains from the sun, the greys of the sky come alive with mysterious golds and pinky reds and oranges.

It is a vulnerable experience realizing this beauty that has struck us all speechless will be gone in four minutes.

I find myself coming to you rather humbled. Humbled by the power of November, but also humbled by the power of God’s beauty and generosity in our lives.

The house seems to have leapt up out of the ground. I love standing on the walls before the roof rafters go up, looking at a fullscale wooden picture of the architect’s blueprints. It seems only yesterday we were mulling over the plans and now the house is framed, roofed, and mostly sided.

This has been accomplished through a lot of teamwork. My son Jake, my nephew Owen, and Sean, a young skilled carpenter from our previous home of Wyoming, make a great crew working tirelessly to create a geometric wonder out of piles of lumber.

We have also been blessed by enthusiastic groups of volunteers. Friends from skiing, tennis, church, and presbytery have shown up on a regular basis. In Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller has a chapter on charity--what it feels like to be on the receiving end--to be given to instead of the one giving. As givers, we are more in control--we decide who, when, where, and how much we give. In receiving we are put in touch with our own needs--our inability to get by without help, the ways in which our falling short needs to be met with a power greater than our own.

Our local Presbyterian youth group came to us like the calvary coming over the hill at key times. Before we raised our foundation, there was a mountain of lumber to move. On a saturday afternoon they came bounding across the field full of laughter and energy. Within a couple of hours, not only was the lumber efficiently moved but a huge wall was built. Another muddy Saturday--the youth with help from some skilled adult volunteers ran 1500 feet of radiant floor tubing underneath the basement floor. The group also framed up our sizable porch deck, working in ankle-deep mud without complaint. Watching the mud-covered young people head out after the dya’s work, I felt like crying. What have Laurel and I done to receive all of this goodness?

And perhaps that’s where the real challenge of receiving lies. Can we just say thanks? Thank you without examining whether we are deserving, thank you without computing whether we can pay back somehow what we have been given. In the words of Bob Marley, “Thank you Lord, for what you’ve done for me. Thank you Lord, for what you’re doing now. Thank you, Lord, for every little thing”--Oh Yeah!

Love,

Rock

A “newsy” P.S. from Laurel: GREAT news on the “details” front: we have had another supportive Board meeting (SO grateful for our Board members), have received our state nonprofit incorporation (so we can now open a bank acct.!), and we are on our way to the 501(c)(3) status! We also found a great lawyer who has caught the vision of Lägom Landing. Thank you for your prayers and support!!!