YES, ALL the windows have bars on them. YES, that is asbestos tiling on the outside. NO, NONE of the windows in the apartment open. YES, the floors do slant. NO, there is no central AC. YES, that is an original wrought iron claw foot bathtub. NO, I don't think the floor outside the bathroom will fall through...though it might. NO, there is no sub-floor. YES, there are MANY roaches. YES, that is a gas heater from 1970. YES, I do clean the house; it's just old and grimy. YES, the house does have a certain about-to-fall-over look about it. NO, no one lives in the houses on either side. See these were only externals; more than the condition of The Palace were the events that helped shape its reputation.
There was the odd initial set-up where guests had to go through one of the bedrooms to reach the kitchen or bathroom. A rat found its way into the space between our ceiling and the floor of the upstairs apartment. It died there. In a lucid dream state, I was comforted by the sound of rushing water. I awoke to realize water was ACTUALLY rushing down the walls from the ceiling. (The guy upstairs learned not to flush Q-tips after that.) There were several serious accidents witnessed from the porch of The Palace; one at Blanding and Bull the others at Bull and Taylor. So frequent have the accidents been, I generally only glance out the window to see several people already on their cell phones with 911 and then go back to whatever I was doing. Two of those accidents involved cars landing in our driveway, one taking off the corner of the neighboring house's porch. There was a certain 'Off Standards Party' that will live fondly on in the memories of a select few. Who could forget the good bottle of Scotch and a whirling dervish in the living room of the Palace? Pancake suppers after church. Art night. Dinners with friends. Lunch time prayer meetings and lunch time lunches with more people crammed around the kitchen table than we thought possible. Of course the was the burglary of 2009 while I was in China. Someone broke in, stole my roommate's bike, laptop, and DVD's, and somehow miraculously managed to overlook my bike. And don't forget the homeless man passed out on the porch, day three of my Chinese roommate's life in the US. Movies on the big screen in the back yard, cigars or coffee on the front porch. Nothing can compare to the fateful day when a backhoe showed up. Within hours our house stood alone, from three to one, eternally establishing its reputation as the "The Palace". Mothers, pastors, engaged dudes, dogs, and an Uzbek have found themselves as guests of the palace, though no heads of state ever came.
Reflecting on three years at The Palace has a yet deeper element. It's the difference in the man who first walked into 1605 Bull St and the one who walked out a week or so ago. I walked in angry, disillusioned, and terribly uncertain about God's seeming silence and His "obvious mishandling" of my affairs It seemed all the plans I had been working on had fallen through and there I was working at Starbucks, one flat tire away from financial ruin. Then after three years I walked out a bit more confident with a sure sense of direction and purpose. It would be foolish to say all my questions and doubts were magically brushed away by three years in the Palace, but it is fair to say that those years represent a quiet, steady progress. Time in The Palace offers a much need point of reference.... a benchmark where one can reflect and see God's activity between two points. From point to point, of my reign over Bull St is only three years but my hope is looking back at these years will provide encouragement to press on through whatever lies ahead.
Have any good memories of The Palace? Share them below.....