The day after I wrote No Home for Gnomes, I ran the Lake Overstreet trail so I could stop by the site of the Gnome tree one more time. I had not visited it since the village was dismantled.

Turning right onto the trail spur, I was surprised to see the red door was still nestled in the base of the big oak tree – and the hollowed-out gourd for leaving notes had been replaced by an ordinary mailbox. Perhaps a compromise had been struck between the forest purists and the Gnome-steaders?

I wondered for a half-second if it was against the law to open someone else’s mailbox (does that apply to Gnome mailboxes?) – and then pulled down the door and looked inside. I gasped – and smiled – and wanted to cry. Happy tears.

The mailbox was filled with little tokens, notes and gifts. Tiny figurines, monogrammed tree coins; an electronic toy. Someone had even left a crumpled five-dollar bill, which was such an intentional thing to leave, I have to believe it was meant as a gift to someone who really needed the money (of course, I was channeling the forest fairies and that seemed like the most plausible explanation).

Someone from the park had placed a small spiral bound notepad and pen inside the box to let forest visitors leave a note. I opened the notebook and found pages of cheerful scribblings from adults and children to the Gnomes. With each message, the writers gave wings to their imaginations to communicate a thought or wish to an imaginary sprite they had never met and would never see. In one particularly poignant – and ironic – note a visitor expressed admiration for the Gnome’s place and then wished they could own a home too.

The final note in the book was dated that same morning (I was reading it before 8:00 am, so someone had been out there early!) A very thoughtful park volunteer penned a message urging children to take home the coloring pages and stickers of forest animals she had placed in the mailbox. And she informed them that the Wee Ones were so glad they had stopped by!

The Gnome village is gone, but the spirit of playfulness and kindness it inspired lives on. The seeds were planted back in 2021 and took root in our collective imaginations because we needed a dose of childlike wonder and innocence to protect our hearts from the divisiveness gripping our country at the time. We needed a booster shot of resistance to ward off cynicism and a reminder that in our own “wee” way, we have the power to be forces for good. One little gesture of kindness, playfulness or creativity at a time.

I gleaned a lot from my return trip to the Gnome village. I realized that in my indignation about the dismantling of the village, I had picked a side and divided park visitors into two irreconcilable groups. Instead of considering a compromise somewhere in the middle, I held fast to my position and didn’t want anyone to interrupt my narrative.

Until I saw the bright red door still nestled in the base of that majestic oak tree – next to an ordinary mailbox stuffed with extraordinary messages and gifts of good will.

It doesn’t take a (Gnome) village. It takes each of us as individuals to practice grace, understanding and compromise. Sprinkled with a heavy dose of playful imagination.

“So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 7:12)