It grips my heart every time
we return to Chalet Shalom:
the essence of loved ones that
lingers on in what they left behind.
They are gone. But it’s their song
they carefully recorded here
in this lakeside home, built
and put together as a legacy
for us. And that it is.
This space is hidden inside
a cluster of birches and pines
on land sloping gently down
to Piatt Lake, which stretches
east to west with lagoon fingers.
This is true Michigan, where
Mom and Dad grew up.
Their roots held strong
even though they left.
They knew God had sent them
far off, to Africa, to spread his love
in Congo and then Côte d’Ivoire.
Now this retreat, Chalet Shalom,
blends aromas of those dear lands
with their piece of “pure Michigan”.
This fragrance is unique, and speaks
through treasures gathered gladly
during decades of hither and yon.
An elephant herd charges us
over the flames of the fireplace
framed by stones and shells,
mapping travelers’ trips and delight
in creation’s colors and designs,
collected and mapped to summarize
discoveries made on mountains
and beaches, oceans and spaces
around the world they roamed.
Our father, Dwight, loved photos as art—
ways to capture time and faces
of dear ones he saw everywhere.
He made this house a true museum,
a collection that triggers our memories.
When others step in, they incite wonder.
Africa, Europe, the U.S.A. are melded
together, a testimony to their becoming
a blend of cultures and so many stories.
A wooden elephant and long croc
rest on the organ’s shoulders, listening.
A tiny ceramic lighthouse faces
the bright little hummingbird
guarding the quiet on the antique desk.
Sunrise photos of Piatt Lake
sit beside mud huts and graceful palms,
a painting of lifestyles that they cherished,
a village where they spent time.
A hand-crafted wooden old mens’ chair
is bordered with reptiles, birds and fish.
It is angled across from the comfy nook
where that Grandpa and Grandma
spent hours and days reading the books
that linked them with the worlds
they had traveled, wars and peace,
lessons learned, science and history,
biblical truths and philosophy.
American crystal, African pottery
stack the cabinets that subtly evoke
our mother, Barbara, and her love
for shades of blue and aqua, greens.
Her home was a haven with open doors
to welcome the family or traveler.
It was handy to have huge platters
and bowls, plus an extra long table
prepped to honor each special scene.
Her remnants of a landmark set
of dinnerware that Dad and I found
in a Lebanese store in Korhogo, a gift
back in our early days of beginning
new life in the Côte d’Ivoire.
White ceramic with dusky beige roses
now fading, scraped away over time
by so many knives and forks, these
herald recovery from losing Congo.
Some treasures cry out to be treasured,
not left behind or hidden in places
where no one knows what they really mean.
So we come up north when we find the time
to sit among these and so much more,
enjoying the heritage left to us.
They offer these artifacts as warm hugs,
the kind they gave to us and to others–
the poor, the sick and the marginalized.
We also sit outside on the deck
absorbing the scenes that called them here:
elegant evergreens, chirping birds,
water rippling with water lilies, squirrels
foraging for their food, kayaks and boats
and children laughing, swimming, splashing
in the “shalom” of Mom and Dad
and the Shepherd they served so well.
A peaceful legacy it is!
Linnea's Lines 