Last year, I set off on an ebay adventure to purchase my own Christmas houses. It turned out to be quite an ebay "learning" curve and kind of a joke with my kids as I entered the bidding wars. I even had a special prompt on my phone to let me know when I had been out bid. I am such and all or nothing person. In the end, and thanks to some good bidding advice from my brother-in-law (thanks George!), victory was mine (along with this great collection of houses). Most of them show some wear and tear. Some more than others. I kind of like that.
They sit on top of my beloved robin egg blue hutch. Sometimes they are a conversation around our dinner table.
Like last week, when I noticed that the red house had lost it's light…
"That's because it's being robbed." replied Drew. After laughing about this prospect and the introduction of crime into my sweet and blissful village we started discussing other events that might be taking place.
Me, "Well, I think that must be the major's house, and he really needs to get a handle on the cities crime problem."
Gentry, "I can see him looking at us".
"That house is on fire, someone should tell them."
"And by the way mom, your church is missing it's steeple". Remember, I reminded everyone, "They're vintage"
As the conversation continued, I couldn't help but think about my own house, and my own life, and wonder what people sometimes think when they look into our windows. There was something about my Christmas village that suddenly made me ponder that way I see others and the way I sometimes judge others. Is that weird? I don't know, the older I get, the more symbolism I seem to see in everything around me.
Like these Christmas houses….a little banged up, worn, but still beautiful...
And I decided that I'm going to start looking a little deeper to find people's glitter and and beauty, and stop looking at the their broken window.