Hicks' Holler
There are stages in life when chapters end and new ones begin. I’m approaching 30, and such a stage is mine.
The concept of home has always been a multifaceted one for me. Marrying Tyler 5 years ago gave California the title and holds our current permanent address. But the place I first called home, where I first understood its meaning is Pegram, Tennessee. If you follow me or my husband on social media, or if we ran in the same circles growing up, you already know how special of a place this is.
The log cabin in the woods was built by my dad. A half-mile long downhill driveway takes you to the lakeside beauty, surrounded by trees green in the summer and color-coated in the fall. Some winters dressed them in snow, and there’s few things more dreamy than a white Christmas there.
It will always be breathtakingly unique and nostalgic for me. But the chapter of it being my home is closing. Today it becomes someone else’s property. This day of the house’s closing means the closing of its chapter as Hicks’ Holler. I may not see the seasons on those trees for years to come.
The word bittersweet exists for situations like these. The house has been off and on the market for many years and for many reasons, so I’m not blindsided or disappointed by the news. My parents both needed it to sell, and for that I’m happy it did. I’m excited for wherever they each will go and make new homes. These will become extensions of mine.
Before this vast chapter of my life is shut, I want to pay homage where homage is due. To what made the cabin home. To hands that built it and worked to keep it. To love that filled it even in the midst of broken things. All homes are made by someone and filled with some things, and none achieve perfection. The value that remains are in things that always will, things that exist in the heart and soul.
I believe every person who walked through those thick wooden doors was touched. By the intricacy and skill each log implied. By family or the sense of the word that indwelled. This was a place that invited, included and imprinted.
These things remain long after sticks and stones. These things cannot be bought or sold.
I’d like to express my deep gratitude to my father. I lived most of my life in 2 log cabins built by his 2 hands and I still can’t wrap my mind around how he did it. He’s a musician, not an architect, but if you’ve been in the homes he’s built you’d beg to differ. He did incredible work on walls that enclosed our family, friends too, for many years. You’re truly a gifted man, Dad. I’m so proud and thankful. And thanks for letting me have everything in my room be blue.
And to my mother, the lifeblood of our home. You made the house look as shiny and inviting as if it was your full time job to do so, and we all know it wasn’t. You are hands down the best hostess anyone could have, and I don’t know if I ever thanked you for always making my friends feel at home. Leaving for college was hard but all my homecomings were sweet. Introducing our home to Tyler and then Penny will be something I always remember, even if she won’t. I’ll take her back to visit someday, I’ll want to see it again too. Thank you Mama, for everything.
The place God’s preparing for us forever is perfect and permanent. It far exceeds any home any of us will ever build or breathe in. I know He took delight in the good that came from Hicks’ Holler. He takes delight in creativity, in hospitality, in family, in love. Perfection He doesn’t expect, and as much as He shares in our sorrows He applauds our joys.
Nothing is in vain if the Lord is in it. And in our home, He was present.
I thank the Lord for the years He gave us there, for all the life those walls have seen. For keeping us safe, for blessing us with the beauty of creation all around. God has great plans for that beautiful home. I’m thankful for the time it was mine.
