When the Walls Began to Rise

With the concrete cured, the next phase began. The walls started going up.

Framing crews arrived, boards were measured and lifted into place, and slowly the outline of the new addition began to rise from the foundation. What had been open space only days before was now beginning to take form.

It was engrossing to watch.

The foundation had seemed surprisingly small when it was first poured. But as the walls began to stand and define the rooms, the space suddenly felt much larger. Hallways appeared. Doorways formed. Corners began to tell the story of what each room would become.

For the first time, it was possible to step inside the spaces that had only existed on paper.

At one point, while the crew was removing insulation from the attic, they uncovered something I never expected. Tucked away in the far corners were several old boxes my parents had stored there years ago—boxes filled with pieces of my childhood.

Inside were Christmas decorations and small treasures from a time long gone. As I looked through them, memories came rushing back—Christmas mornings, laughter, traditions that shaped our family.

Standing there in the middle of a construction zone, holding those pieces of the past, I felt tears well in my eyes.

What a gift it was to find them.

What a treasure to rediscover memories that had quietly been waiting there all these years.

It felt like a small reminder that even as new spaces are being built, the story that came before still lives within these walls.

I found myself wandering through the framed rooms, pausing often, imagining what they would one day hold.

These rooms would not simply be bedrooms and gathering spaces. They would become places where people encounter the presence of God.

Places where decisions are made that shape futures—and perhaps even the eternity of others.

Somewhere within these walls, vows will be written and rehearsed before a wedding day.

Somewhere here, conversations will take place that bring clarity to seasons of uncertainty.

Moments of the unknown will give way to hope and new direction.

Standing inside those unfinished frames, I could already feel the meaning of what was being built.

At the same time the structure was rising, another important step was unfolding. I had my first meeting with the cabinet maker.

Like so many conversations in this process, it was filled with questions. Good questions. Necessary questions. The kind that helps transform ideas floating in your mind into something tangible and real.

Together, we began talking through the kitchen, the walk-in pantry, and the laundry room.

(The laundry room now includes Emma’s own little puppy shower—because of course it does.)

The long hallway that was just beginning to take shape will eventually become a welcoming transition space—a place for a mudroom where guests can take off their shoes, hang their coats, and settle into the warmth of My Father’s House.

Just beside it will be a small refreshment area with a mini fridge, bar sink, ice maker, and plenty of counter space. Cabinets there will hold puzzles, games, and books—simple invitations for people to slow down, unwind, and connect with one another.

Even while the boards were still exposed and the insulation was falling in soft clumps from the rafters, I could begin to picture it.

The laughter.

The quiet conversations.

The moments of rest.

Construction sites are not usually described as peaceful places. Yet as I stood there that day, listening to the sounds of hammers and saws echo through the framing, I felt an overwhelming sense that something sacred was taking shape.

Not just a structure.

A space.

A place prepared for people to gather, reflect, celebrate, and encounter God.

And while the walls were rising steadily around us, the weather outside was beginning to shift.

Very cold—and very unexpected—temperatures were moving toward us.

Another reminder that in construction, as in life, the journey forward is rarely without its surprises.

But the house was rising.

And with every board lifted into place, the vision of My Father’s House was becoming more real.