There is a place I dream of—part homestead, part sanctuary, part Rivendell. It is a home, but more than that, it is a gathering place, a refuge, a place where ideas, stories, and meals are shared in equal abundance.
At the heart of this dream is a cozy main house, simple and warm, with large windows that welcome the light and an open design that invites connection. There are four bedrooms for family, a master bedroom for rest, and spaces that breathe—easy to clean, easy to live in. Beyond its walls, children run freely in the large backyard, their laughter carried by the wind. A river marks the border of the land, its waters a source of life, play, and quiet moments with a fishing line cast into the current.
Surrounding the main house are small guest cottages—some with one bedroom, some with two—each a space for visitors, seekers, or those who call this place home. They are simple, yet full of life, providing both solitude and belonging. Nearby, a thriving garden and greenhouse make it possible to cultivate food year-round, a reminder of the beauty of tending, growing, and sharing.
But the heart of this homestead is the gathering house. Separate from the main home, it is built for community. Inside, many tables wait to be filled with meals and conversation. A full kitchen stands ready for feasts and coffee gatherings. A stage invites storytelling, spoken word, music, prayer—expressions of the soul in its many forms. It is a place where ideas are presented, where laughter echoes, where wisdom is shared, where healing begins.
This dream is not just about a house—it is about a way of life. A life shaped by faith, creativity, and community. A place that thrives because many hands keep it alive and well. It is a dream of simplicity, warmth, and purpose.
Perhaps one day, it will be more than a dream.
Forming 2.0 
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