North Hill Drive is a real place. I live here with a lot of people in and out. It’s a small house by today’s standards, and old, but it’s a place that’s been slowly rehabbed and patched together over the years.

I mean this both physically and metaphorically.

Life, I’ve learned, is a physical thing that supports metaphor. The real meaning of the tree is found in the way its roots seek water and its leaves, light. Halfway to Heaven, by the grace of God, and here I am at the foundation, rearranging rooms and inspecting the studs. It amazes me that God cares at all, that it matters to him that we recognize truth.

I post pictures of North Hill Drive: the rooms, the trees, and sometimes the people. And I write in the meanings, essays on virtue and love, sin and time.

Standing back a bit, I imagine you’ll be able to see the patterns easier; the way that God makes it all come together in a beautiful spark that lasts a moment but then also forever.