It was built as a joint venture, a shared effort by three Girl Scouts seeking to achieve their Gold Award. They planned and organized for its construction together. I’m sure that if you found the right people to ask, you could learn more about who specifically did what, but I don’t know why anyone would be interested.
The more important thing is that it now exists. I’ve passed it many times, although I’ve never stopped. It sits at a three-way stop on a side street parallel to the main road through town, on the front lawn of a building recently converted from a warehouse into a church. There’s a good chance one or more of the planners’ families are members and that’s why it sits where it does. Again, a side detail that you can ask about if you really feel the need.
It’s modest, but you’ll notice it. A concrete slab a few yards square, with three benches arranged around a little free library. Unlike other little free libraries, you can actually sit here and read if you like. It’s more immersive than others like it that you may encounter around the area. Can anyone even name another with a place to sit next to it? This is the only one I’ve ever seen.
This spot has also become unique–a better word is special, or significant, or meaningful, probably–for another reason, and not the reason anyone wanted: just over a year ago, tragedy visited one of the three who oversaw this project. A series of violent acts consumed her entire family, leaving the entire community shocked and grieving.
Not too long after, this spot became a memorial of sorts, with flowers and other trinkets often left on the benches, particularly in the immediate months after. When the anniversary rolled around in late August, flowers again appeared there. I suspect that this will be a tradition for some time.
That December, someone decided to go the extra mile and decorate the space for the holiday season. Garland adorned the benches and library, and they’d put up a Christmas tree in the grass next to the cement square, complete with lights for the evening hours. I encountered it not only as a thoughtful gesture, but also as a statement of defiance while the wounds of despair and loss were still healing. It was the verse about light shining in the darkness come to life.
As the season begins again, I’ll drive past watching for those lights to reappear. Whether they do or not, the greater light of hope that any of us can carry resides within. I’ll make sure to decorate my heart accordingly.
If you enjoyed this reflection, check out my Advent book, Four Weeks: Reflections for Advent.
Jeffrey A. Nelson 