The House on Blueberry Hill

I wrote this entry several months ago.... enjoy :)

I could have never dreamed of this situation, it was simply God working his wildy mysterious ways to bring a smile to a couple of faces.

A couple weeks ago I felt an intense tug to find myself, once more. The one thing I have learned throughout the summer is you never really stop searching the depths of your mind, body, and soul for who you are as a person. It. never. ends. Just when you think you have yourself all figured out, plans change and you are right back at step one searching the depths of your deepest desires, your flaming thoughts, and your fierce dreams. 

This summer, I have persistently prayed that I follow where God leads me, no matter how uncomfortable. I have learned to say yes to unexpected experiences and I have morphed into someone who has learned to be comfortable in the unknown future. It may have taken months of therapy and several dosage changes– but I am finally accepting the present for what it is– the present. Well, God, per usual, tapped me on the shoulder and gave me a nudge on a random afternoon. I opened my phone, and started scrolling on Airbnb. I have never used Airbnb, but for some reason I just felt compelled to find something that would peak my interest. If anything, looking at beautiful (and not so beautiful) properties gave me something to do, as if I didn’t have a list of things waiting.

Don’t get me wrong, a house on the lake or a party house would have been fantastic– any college student should catch my drift. But, that is not what I was looking for when I was narrowing my searches. I found myself eyeing houses in the country. I felt myself aching for long driveways, and cozy views. I felt my soul yearning for a place to rest, recover, and rejuvenate. 

Well, going to an Airbnb in the middle of nowhere is daunting, for anyone, let alone a college-aged girl. I closed my app, thinking the tug would never come into fruition. It was just a silly little thought. 

Well, going to an Airbnb in the middle of nowhere is daunting, for anyone, let alone a college-aged girl. I closed my app, thinking the tug would never come into fruition. It was just a silly little thought. 

But then, I picked my phone back up. I opened my app and there it was– close enough to home, far enough from life’s distractions, an oasis in itself. 

I called my friend and asked, “What are you doing this weekend?” The phone call ended and I applied for the staycation of a broken girl’s dreams. It was a Thursday, and I wanted it over the weekend. I thought to myself, if it doesn’t work out, it’s okay. It is really just in God’s hands. I don’t even think I’m the right age to rent an Airbnb– sorry to Airbnb, if you ever read this entry. 

Not even an hour later, I got a ping on my phone. I got the rental. 

I had one night to escape my weekly 9-5 internship and make a lifelong memory. Well, I realized, unglamourous as it was, I had to work on Saturday morning. 

Saturday morning came and once I finished my shift, baby spit-up and all, I headed back home to pack my bags. I quickly showered, and got in the car to go. My friend was going to meet me there.

I followed up with the owner, a young, middle-aged woman, who appeared to be an absolute gem over text. I told her I would be there in an hour, and I held my breath. It was all happening. What. The. Heck. Am. I. Doing.

On my drive up, I prayed specifically, that if this was not where I was supposed to be going, to quietly stop me in my tracks. But, if this is where I was supposed to be led, to help me to lean in wholeheartedly and let myself embrace the moment. 

I pulled off on an exit. I was met with rolling hills, horses roaming pastured land, and a single stop sign. I held my breath and let my car take me. A gravel road. My mind filled with Dateline horror stories, but then I felt such an intense and overwhelming sense of peace. Normally, I would talk myself out of what could have been a super unsafe situation. But, I said one last prayer. “God, open my eyes to You this weekend. I pray that you keep me safe and help me to recover in ways I couldn’t dream up, ones that are completely in Your will.” 

As I climbed to the top of a hill I slowed to a stop, checking to see if I had the right house. Trees lined the driveway, and excitement overwhelmed me. I opened my messaging system and let the owner know I had arrived. I’d be lying if I said I was smart. Who goes into the country, by themself, to a random house? Trust me, I know. I gave myself a lecture afterwards, too. But, at that moment, I did not care. I felt the tug. This was truly God, I would’ve never done this by myself. I’m too worrisome and fearful– and that’s how I knew that I was absolutely in the right place. My gut didn’t fire off. I just felt peace wash over me again and again. All was right in the world. 

A few moments later, a sweet lady walked out with a key in hand. She introduced herself as Laura, which I thought was funny because my mom’s name is Lori. Her smile made me feel warm. Her eyes were icy blue and she was just so beautiful. I could sense she truly cared about people. I felt like I had a piece of my mom with me at that moment, and I felt comfort. I noticed the silver cross she wore on her neck. 

She welcomed me into the property and showed me a tour of the place we’d be staying. I was ecstatic. She asked me several times if I needed anything, I could feel her nerves. In our brief interaction, I told her I was a writer and I was just looking for a place to be inspired. What a lame reason to get an Airbnb, she must have thought. But, I really didn’t have an answer for why I was in her home on five acres in the middle of Missouri. After we exchanged numbers, I subtly dismissed her and got my stuff to unpack. 

My little bags for the night were filled with comfy clothes, a nice outfit, a bible, a book and a journal. I was really prepared– as you can tell. I set my belongings down to take the place in for myself. I noticed a mason jar with flowers and a card, titled, “Elizabeth & Guest.” How fancy, Elizabeth. I smiled, giggling like I was the main character in a movie. I opened the card up and it read that I was her first ever guest (this was also my first-ever Airbnb experience). AND! This property, also her home, was placed on her heart about five years ago to renovate. The purpose was to host women to heal and restore themselves. “Okay, God. Good one.” Once more, I knew I was in the right place. 

An hour later she knocked on the glass door. She handed me a notebook with a sticky note. She told me it was to be used as a guest book, but she hadn’t finished writing at the front of it. So, she asked me to start writing after a few pages. No problem, I thought, I’ll do this later. 

I went on doing silly little things like making a cup of tea and opening up my book. I texted my friend to hurry up. In the meantime, I went outside to sit and started writing in the journal she handed me. 

I really didn’t know how I wanted to approach my entry. But, it’s like the pen just carried on with my thoughts. I felt out of control. I wrote that I had attempted suicide months earlier and was finding myself this summer. I reiterated to her that this property was not only a testament of her faith, but it was placed on my heart to visit– for no particular reason at the time, other than God. I finished out my entry, knowing I would leave it for her to find after I had left. 

I closed the journal. I went on and I pampered myself with a hot shower, Maren Morris, and I got all dressed up. My friend and I had dinner plans (ooo how fancy). I wore my newest, emerald dress and paired it with lace up wedges. Normally, I don’t feel super beautiful, but there was something about this dress that made me feel like I was a princess. Emerald, after all, means truth and love, and I couldn’t have picked a better color to describe the journey of the night to come. Finally, my friend arrived. He serenaded me with classics on the piano, as I puckered my lips in the mirror, putting on my favorite pink gloss. 

We were off to dinner in the nearest town. We enjoyed perusing the town of tiny shops, window shopping the tiny trinkets, and giggling at our own stupid jokes. Suddenly, an antique car show caught our attention. 

After walking about, we drove back to the house. I rolled down the windows, I let my hair go with the wind and we jammed out to my playlist of The Lumineers, Judah & the Lion, Head and the Heart, and a thousand other artists who can’t measure up to some of my favorites.

My friend and I finally got back to the house, and I headed straight for the couch. Now this is the part where I relax, I thought. Yeah, no. We roasted each other, teared up over a heartbreaking book, and rated each other’s outfits–Tiktok style, of course. The laughs and giggles were contagious. 

It started getting dark outside and we realized bedtime was quickly approaching. We had the materials for a fire, but goodness gracious it was a fire outside, already. I remembered Laura mentioning the stars were mesmerizing at night. So, we decided on a trip to the deck for stargazing. 

By that time, I had hit my limit talking for the day. I literally just wanted to sit on the swing in silence, to take in the sounds of nature. My friend had other plans. Suddenly, I ended up laying down looking at the stars and he started reminiscing about high school. I felt my soul fill with joy. There was no pressure for me to fill the silence; he simply just carried a monologue and kept me laughing the whole time. The stories finally ended and I just stared at the stars. The bugs hummed and the stars flickered. I had all of those thoughts about the universe and me as a tiny little speck, attempting to comprehend the vastness in between the two extremes.

We closed out the night and headed to get some rest. 

The next morning, I awoke with a freshly brewed cup of coffee handed to me in bed, facing out to see the rolling hills. Ever since I was a little girl, I have had a recurring dream to wake up with the sight of green rolling hills in the middle of nowhere, with a freeing feeling. My dream was actively coming to fruition. It truly felt magical. 

I got dressed for the day and went out to the porch to spend time with God. It was almost time to get packed up and to head out.

My phone pinged moments later. Laura texted me asking if I wanted to grab a picture before leaving. Of course, I thought. 

Finally, she arrived home from church. All my things were loaded in my car and my friend was going to be late for mass. We quickly grabbed a picture and I handed her the notebook back. I was nervous, I won’t lie. I thought to myself, I just way overshared. I don’t even know this lady and she now knows one of the most traumatic events of my life. We hugged and I headed to my car. Backing up in the drive, I gave a gentle sigh and a nod to a place that healed me, the house on Blueberry Hill. 

I started worrying, a true overthinker at her best, but then I felt God nudge me once more. I felt Him whispering it would all be worked for his good. Midway through my drive my phone pinged again.

Laura. 

She told me she had so much to tell me, but it wouldn’t ever fit in a text message. She asked for my email, awestruck by my vulnerability to share such a painful part of my story.

Later in the day, after settling back home, I opened my email to a long letter. It was filled with stories encountering abuse, suicide, isolation, medical issues, pain, but most of all, it was filled with God. 

I cried. And cried. And cried some more. She told me that she had received a message with a booking for her Airbnb, and she spent all week getting it ready for her first guests. But then, the guests canceled on her after hours of painstaking work to get it all ready. She contemplated keeping her listing up. 

But then, just six hours after the first cancellation, she received my request. You know the rest.

Later on, I realized that I had spent the night at Blueberry Hill exactly three months after my suicide attempt. God. 

My story with Laura, though, was just the beginning. We would go on to make plans to see each other before I ended my summer in the midwest. We continued on, talking frequently about the days to come. 

I can only think about how this was what we both needed. She had prayed fervently for this Airbnb to come to fruition, with hopes that it would later become a retreat for healing. I fervently prayed that I would heal and cope healthily with my past. I wanted someone to understand where I was coming from, but didn’t really want to have to explain. Laura wanted the house to have new, good memories. We, as guests, did our best. 

As I think about this trip, I think about all of the “No’s” along the way. Each of us were so close to giving up, and somehow our dreams just kept changing, molding, and shaping into something more. God’s creation isn’t always the trees or humans, it’s memories, too. 

I forever thank God for Laura and that house on Blueberry Hill.

Xx,

EB

Follow up: Laura and I have stayed in contact, despite our distance. I regularly text her and we update each other about our lives. I've been praying one day soon I can make a trip back to see her in Missouri. She is one of the most special people I have ever met, and I am lucky to have crossed paths with her during such a tumultuous period of my life. God works in such magical ways and I am so thankful I followed my gut.