As we stood looking at the pastoral scene, the chickens started making their way uphill to the safety of their pen for their overnight vigil of doing whatever chickens do. Reportedly, at bedtime on a nightly basis, the chickens come in from the field and intuitively make there way to their pen where they nest for the night. Of course, the pet owners have to open the gate to the pen and secure it shut for the night.
By their own admission, the young couple that has lived in their home for about two years knew little of chickens when they bought the place. Part of the country charm was that the setting came with the chicken pen and coop.
It would have been a disservice not to use it in the fashion intended by the original owners. The couple sought out the professional consultation services of someone in the area who is known as “Chicken-Boy”. The General knew exactly whom they were talking about. Apparently she had read the same article about the guy in a Dripping Springs publication. Who would have thought that anyone would turn to the professional expertise of the guy who goes by the handle: “Chicken-Boy”?
When I was a kid growing up, “Chicken-Boy” would have been the last name that any of my friends would have wanted to be called. To call someone a chicken would have been insulting. Doesn't the concept of “chicken-out” carry with it a lack of courage or bravery? Nobody wanted the reputation for being a chicken.
By the way, I asked permission to take the photos before I started clicking pictures. The young couple showing the General and I their home valued and appreciated their respite from a regular neighborhood where you could almost reach out and touch the house on either side of your home.
Because of the elevation of the couple’s home, you could stand on the front porch and have the sense you were in the middle of the country. You really can’t even see the street in front of their home. Of course, in a perfect world, I’d spend most of my time on the back porch. The view from the back is amazing. It is very private and serene. “Sanctuary” really is the word that best describes the setting.
So who were these people and how did we meet them? The young woman had called the day before and left a message on my phone. She referred to me as Pastor Forrester. It was articulated in such a respective and kind tone that it didn’t feel awkward to be referred to in that fashion. She made reference to the beautiful church she passes by on a regular basis.
Of course, I routinely provide gentle redirection to anyone who calls me “Mr. Forrester” and let them know prefer to be called “Don”. I don’t think of myself as old enough to be called Mister. On the phone message, she mentioned the name of the street where they live. I smiled when I heard her enunciation of the street. She pronounced it exactly the way it is spelled. Had I not known the family for whom the street was named, I would have made the same error. It is pronounced very differently from the way it is spelled.
Anyway the General and I met the couple early yesterday evening and provided them a tour of the church and had an opportunity to visit. They are people that intuitively you know you want as friends.
For starters, the wife reminds me of my daughter. She shared that she is passionate about being a pastry chief. For most of her adult life she was 24/7 in the corporate world. She had a very comfortable income and couldn’t afford the luxury of following her dream. Now circumstances are different. She’s stepped away from the corporate world and has started a small business. She too is a graduate of Le Cordon Bleu Chef School. I intuitively know that she and Andrea would hit it off well. I really want them to meet.
I asked what they liked best about living in Henly? “It’s not in Austin” was the immediate response. Reportedly, when they first looked at their home it was love at first sight. The wife said she became teary eyed when she saw the view from the back of the house. It was simply so perfect that she knew it was home.
Apparently the couple was one of four vying to purchase the home. She penned a letter to the seller expressing her thoughts concerning the home and how they would cherish the beginning of what the original owners had started. Apparently her heart felt response valuing the original owners efforts in creating a sanctuary was well received. They were awarded the privilege of purchasing the home.
Hearing her story reminded me of another young couple who live down their street. The wife also became teary eyed when they first walked their land. It was so perfect. She intuitively knew it was the place they had to have for their family. They too were yearning from an escape from crowded city life.
In the course of visiting with the couple, we learned that the husband is a musician. That’s not what he does for a living, but it is a passion he shares. He plays the guitar and banjo. He didn’t verbalize that he is really good at his art, but his music studio is adorned with an extensive collection of guitars. It really looks like a museum of sorts. Wow! I threw out the name of a fiddler player who lives a street over from them. “You’ve got to meet him”, I said. In the course of the 45 minutes-to-an-hour that we talked, I threw out names of several people they need to meet. It is my intent to orchestrate an opportunity for that to happen. I can be so parental at times.
They are an amazingly delightful couple living a stone’s throw from other delightful talented people. People need people. Trust me, Henly is better because of the presence of this young couple. They are amazing. When the husband invited us to stop by anytime, I had the sense he was genuine in the invitation.
All My Best!
Don