A Man Named Jerry, and the House He Built

Angie Warren

The man who built my grandparents a-frame cabin lives way down the lane. He crafted it by hand, thirty years ago, and lives in one himself, (which he also happened to build).

He's never been married, and lives by choice with no electric and zero running water. Jerry's pets are the two remaining peacocks from a family of three, that travel back and forth between the two properties.

He fascinates me, and I think about him often when I think of New Rumley Road. Little did he know, back in '86 that he was building a home, a space, that would change the life of a then four year old girl.

It's amazing to me, and yet no surprise, when I try to grasp the goodness and well laid plans of my Savior. Nothing is by chance. Nothing is coincidence. It's all written up in a big bad, super rad, plan of life.

I'm so grateful a man named Jerry decided to follow his dreams so many years ago. And I'm so glad I got to be someone who saw what was on the other side of it all. Back between the maples and pines, lay a house that would change my very life.

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I've been quiet here, but shared a lot of our trip over on Instagram (find me there @angiewarren).

Tomorrow we return home. With us, I'll bring the final pages of the first draft of my book, as well as the title. I knew coming here to Ohio, to New Rumley Road, there was something waiting for me. Turns out, I was correct.

It's now in the saved pages of a document as well as in my blood. Between the painful and beautiful, I've found what I was looking for.