Rabbit Hole

A Bonus Post About the Magical Place I Stayed Last Weekend

To get to the rabbit hole you need to go to the airport. The thing is, I didn’t even know this was my destination. I was going to St. Louis for a speaking engagement. Excited to talk about hunting for Christ’s presence in his word on Friday night and then preaching about experiencing God by listening and looking for him like the bride in the Song of Songs twice on Sunday. That’s enchanting on its own.

Phillip, one of the pastors, told me that I’d be staying at an Airbnb that his neighbor rented out downtown. But I didn’t know that I was going to The Rabbit Hole. Before I could check in, I got to meet his 5-year-old son Peter, who was coming home from Kindergarten. Peter is a conversationalist, you see. And in this conversation, the place I was to stay was introduced as The Magic Window. Peter was full of wonder that I was actually staying at this fantastical place that he walks by on the daily. It literally has a window with the sign “Magic Window,” where people leave whatever for the taking. Today it was a toddler’s shirt, black woman’s flats, a book, and a scarf. From what I hear, the items vanish pretty quickly.

And Peter has never been inside. You can imagine his excitement to walk there with me for check-in. And let me tell you, when we arrived my new friend Peter was bursting in ways that awaken my own soul’s longings, noticing little treasures all over, touching everything. Yes, Peter, let’s freaking walk on some water right now.

Because this place is awesome. It’s in the quaint Shaw neighborhood, near the botanical gardens and Tower Grove Park—a garage that has been converted into a guest suite. And it is magical. The property is well manicured with fabulous garden spaces. The garage doors in the front look vintage with stained glass toppers.

I walked in the side door and was immediately in love. The earthy green stained concrete floors and Douglas fir bead board ceiling make you feel like you are in a tree on that property. The owner, Ken, is there to introduce me to his piece of artwork. To give me the tour of the, I don’t know, 450 square feet of awesomeness. The small, vintage fridge stocked with cream sodas, English muffins, blackberry lemon thyme jam, frozen vanilla custard and wine; what’s behind the curtains to reveal pantries, toasters and a washing machine; his and her robes—functional stuff. But he doesn’t say a word about the antiques that are screaming out their glory, the over half a dozen arrangements of fresh cut flowers from his garden in the perfect, eclectic containers, the many little artistic pieces and accents that make this place perfect. Perfect.

He does show me one amazing discovery that beckons you to look for others. Under the guise of, “if you want more privacy.” And yes, I did need this for the evening, so it in fact was functional. But super-cool! The sliding back garage door behind the bed. The view to the patio is inviting, but if you want some privacy, and not to be exposed during the evening hours, a whole vintage shuttered wall slides right on over.

Everyone leaves and I spend some time on that enclosed patio space. I brewed a little coffee. After all, I woke up at 4:15 to make my flight, rewound a time zone hour in travel, and needed to speak at the new 7PM. I notice, besides the visit from a hummingbird attracted to the plants and the patio squirrel, so many more intricate small details of beauty. Peter was right, this place is a treasure hunt, a magic window of its own!

I go back in and notice all the rabbit art pieces—legit, cool and original ones, not the cheesy crap—but I wasn’t getting it. Not until I read the framed magazine feature of the place. The place is not called The Mystery Window, but The Rabbit Hole (and, I mean, how cool is the mystery window?). Because when the owners started this project they discovered a family of rabbits living in their backyard.

This is a whole other ballgame for me. I’ve adventured the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. And Rabbit Hole was one of our unpredicted fun discoveries there. IT’S A BOURBON! If you know anything about me, this is like a sign from God. I am a bourbon girl. And I have an affinity for this bourbon. And even a couple of good stories associated with it. Most dramatically, Rabbit Hole is the bourbon my friend and I were enjoying on top of Weverton Heights before we later ended up having to trail run to escape from a man chasing us down the rocky mountain. Talk about a rabbit hole! But we escaped a predator. Staying here is like a sign. I text my husband when I find out the news of the real name and he replies, “A little Aimee in wonderland.”

Yes. That’s where I am. I thought I was in St. Louis. But I am under the spell of The Rabbit Hole.

**If you’d like to hear my sermon on Song of Songs 2:8-14, here is the recording: