HOLY OF HOLIES

Most of our subscribers realize that Restoration Review is a humble effort, emanating from the home of the editor, with his wife serving as custodian of the mailing list. Since moving to Denton our operation has been crowded into what was intended to be the dining room of our new home. So up until now there has been nothing pretentious about our operation. But we can hardly lay claim to such simplicity any longer, for a great change has been wrought at 1201 Windsor Dr. in Denton, Texas.

This journal is now being sent forth from the Holy of Holies, which probably makes it the most distinctive publication in the world.

Our double garage has become a catch-all for bicycles, boxes, and stuff; especially bicycles, and an occasional automobile. So with the help of two beloved neighbors, Leonard Hurd and Marvin Sittin, we converted it into two lovely rooms, about 450 square feet in all. The first of the new rooms off from the kitchen is Ouida’s room for sewing (she needs a large table upon which to spread her materials and leave them, thus escaping from the livingroom floor) and ironing. The table is really a tennis table, so the room doubles for a play room for the kids and for family tennis matches. It will also, when school starts again, be a study for the kids, around that large table (when the sewing isn’t out), with each child having space all his own on a nearby bookcase.

From this room one moves on into what was first called “Daddy’s study,” which has insulated inside walls (and you all know three reasons why!), but which is as much the mailing room for Restoration Review, with its large, walk-in storage room.

A few weeks back when we were giving Sam Rogers, now of Southwestern Christian College, the grand tour, he said, once he had passed through “Mother’s room” and into “Daddy’s study” (names that are confusing because Mother already has a room upstairs shared by Daddy): “So this is the Holy of Holies, while that room is the Holy Place!” Sam was surely inspired when he said that, for the names have stuck, and Restoration Review now has the distinct honor of emanating from the Holy of Holies.

It does seem a bit irreverent sometime. When Philip has lost a sock, which is as often as he wears socks, someone is sure to bellow forth: “I saw a sock in the Holy Place . . . or maybe it was the Holy of Holies!” To be sure, the High Priest, going into the Holy of Holies far more often than once a year, has difficulty safe-guarding it from intrusion. But it is indeed a fact that the glory of the Lord is in this place, despite an occasional stray sock, or baseball bat, or arithmetic book.

The most elegant compliment we get when our friends take the tour is that no one would ever guess that it was once a garage.

But that figures. Whoever heard of the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies looking like a garage!

You’ll treat Restoration Review with respect now, won’t you?

Oh, yes, you wonder about the Shekinah. That is when Ouida is in here!