I stood on Mount Hood with the Airstream behind me and asked for direction. The answer came through Angelina’s nudge: build a salt cave in Hood River. That was the call—clear, specific, and impossible on paper. No money. No location. A liberal town that didn’t know us. Yet the invitation was unmistakable.
Makers recognize this moment. The project, the book, the space, the ministry arrives not as a good idea but as a weight that refuses to lift. The temptation is to treat it like one more item on the list. It isn’t. It is the moment the ordinary world cracks open and the Special World begins to insist.