It's hard to pin down the precise term for the inspired structure that Earl and Kim Bennett have nurtured into a functional building next to their home.
In simple terms, it's a log cabin.
But upon closer inspection, it's much more.
The dovetailed oak logs, which date back more than 100 years, become intertwined with the 21st century.
A window air conditioner hums in one of the four modern windows and a flat screen TV hangs on a wall, drawing power from electrical outlets cut into the wood floor, with 40 wooden chairs lined up facing the north wall, which is mostly sheeved with black cloth. Three spotlights with dimmer capability are mounted at the top of the cloth, and two seven-bulb silver chandeliers hang from trusses, which are exposed above the room that is 16 feet by 32 feet.
The eclectic feel is pushed by four colorful faith-related banners hanging on the walls, and flags from more than 40 countries as distant as Japan framing the bottom edges of the cloth on both sides.
On the outside of the green steel-roofed cabin, larger flags are mounted from the United States and Israel.
Possibly a log chapel? A log synagogue?
It definitely leans toward the former, but with a strong connection to the past. The styling -- far from authentic outside the logs -- makes for a relaxing retreat to contemplate and remember.
Oddly fitting, the building's resurrector was a man suffering from Alzheimer's whose long-term memory was sharp enough to recall the logs were stowed in his birth town of Leopold, Missouri.
The man was Kim's father, Bill Beussink, who passed away at the age of 86 in 2011.
Earl says Beussink would tell him stories about the cabin.
"They weren't just stories, random," Earl says. "They'd be like, 'I went out to the house and said like hell you're tearing that down. I'm saving that.' And how they numbered all the logs and he'd go on and on about all that. So then the next day, he'd tell me again. So finally we were like, 'Well, he'd really like this.'"
Beussink had stumbled upon the cabin in the late 1980s when he was razing the termite-infested home of his grandfather, who had built the house in 1917. The cabin was inside the structure, constructed 16 years earlier.
Instead of burning the logs, Beussink and his brother marked them so they could be reassembled, then hauled them to a vacant building, where they sat for about 20 years.
"I think it always bothered him that nothing was done with these logs," Kim says.
With the help of Earl, Beussink started the reconstruction in 2009 after being diagnosed with Alzheimer's. They did their best to return the logs to their marked locations, but had to discard several due to rotting, which resulted in partitioning much of the north wall -- hence the fabric, which is decorated with the words "Saturation Ministries."
Beussink spent hours sitting in the building, even though chinking -- filling in the gaps between the logs -- had yet to be done.
"He'd sit in here all day long in a rocking chair, just sitting because he had Alzheimer's, and he thought it was just awesome to sit in this cabin and reminisce about everything, even though there was no heat, no electric, no chinking," Earl says. "He just thought it was the greatest thing in the world because it brought back his memories. I guess with Alzheimer's, any time you can bring back the memories is a good thing."
After Beussink died, the project went into hibernation for a long spell, then restarted amid more inspiration.
Earl, who has a background in construction and works maintenance for the Jackson School District, installed electrical wiring and perma-chinked the logs. His final task was to install trim around the windows, which he completed in October. He tried to use recycled materials that others were going to discard, which lends to the eclectic nature.
"I'm all about that, instead of landfilling," Earl says.
"We just started doing stuff, and then we thought it would make a cool little chapel," says Earl, who in 1996 founded Saturation Ministries, which provides support for people looking to get involved with ministries.
Kim was all for Earl speaking at a church on a regular basis, something he used to do, but not in recent years.
"I kept telling him he was so good at preaching, in his soul, he just kind of needed to get back into it," she says.
Earl did, starting nondenominational services on Sunday mornings.
He also provides the music. Earl plays guitar, sings -- he says he used to travel extensively playing bluegrass bands -- and occasionally blows on a twisted kudu horn, which sits in the front of the room and which he's orchestrated into one of the songs on a gospel CD he has in the works. He also sends out bellows from the horn before the start of the 11 a.m. services.
Kim's father possessed the same musical spirit. His instruments are still on display at the home.
"I wanted to finish it for Dad," Kim says. "I think Dad in his Alzheimer's state was probably satisfied with the way it was, but I don't know if he had the vision to see it in his mind completed, but I do think he'd like what we've done. I'm pretty sure of that."
The cabin has hosted three weddings.
"We open the cabin up, no charge, for anyone that wants to come get married," Kim says. "And if they don't have a minister, it's a one-stop shop."
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