I turn down the long, dirt farm road and go west, into the sun. I recognize the house, Crosswicks, from the cover sketch on one of her more than forty books. In that house in Goshen, Connecticut, Madeleine L'Engle and Hugh Franklin began to raise their family while Hugh managed a small general store and Madeleine struggled to publish the stories that came, that kept coming. When the family moved back to New York, Crosswicks remained their home for part of the year, a family gathering place. Now Madeleine lives across the road from the family home in a bungalow built on the foundation of an old farmhouse.
Tea is poured.
Time is open. As we talk, neither of us can resist taking in the brilliant sea of grass, wildflowers, and sky outside the windows. Down the hallway, I can see that the writing desk in her room faces directly into it. I have known her stories from childhood. But the miracle of the whole sweep of her diverse work, from science fiction to theology, is how clearly it has reflected her vibrant and changing Christian faith.