FEATURES
The Doll House
by Rhonda C. Johnson
I found her doll house in a second-hand store last moth. It lay
in the corner looking ancient, faded and broken like her dream.
I had never seen anything so beautiful. My heart pounding I walked
over and touched it gingerly.
I paid for and carried my treasure home. My eyes glowing, I laid
the decrepit thing triumphantly on the kitchen table before my
husband. He pressed his fingertips together, looking it over thoroughly.
A smile spread slowly across his face.
"All it needs," I said excitedly, "is a little
fixing up."
My husband's eyebrows raised skeptically at my euphoric statement.
The house was not in great shape. Seven of the ten windows were
broken, the roof had fallen off, the porch railings were crooked
and broken. There was no front door, and the paper shingles were
warped and tagged. One entire wall was completely unattached.
There were only three stairs left on the staircase and the whole
house wiggled on its base. But in all this, I could see what it
was going to be! I saw a dream buried in all that ruin.
"It won't be hard," I said cheerfully. "It will
be fun!"
We started the very next day. We discovered to my dismay, that
we would have to tear down before we fixed up. So, off came all
the windows, all the moldings, the roof, the porch, the staircase
and the shingles. The house was nothing but a shell.
"We're not getting anywhere!" I wailed, as my husband
turned the whole house upside down and nailed it to its base,
so it wouldn't wiggle any more. The fallen wall was repaired next
and had to be clamped overnight so that the glue could dry.
Two weeks later, the house was still a shell, but all "structural
damage," as my husband call it, was repaired.
"We're really coming along, honey!" he said.
I scowled. "I thought we'd be done by now," I said pouting.
To make me feel better, my husband took me shopping at the doll
house miniature store. There were so many wonderful tiny things.
Little beds, tiny washing machines, and a miniature chandelier.
I wanted to buy it all, but my husband reminded me that we should
finish the outside of the house before we began fixing the inside.
So we picked out shingles and molding and brought it to the counter.
There, we learned an eye-opening fact. Those tiny things don't
have tiny prices. The shingles alone cost as much as I had paid
for the whole house. Not only was this taking longer than expected,
it was
going to cost more than we expected too!
A week later we had painted the porch, windows, and molding. I
had torn off and reshingled the roof. All that work and the house
was still a shell. Three weeks and it felt like we had taken five
steps backwards. This was definitely losing its sentimental appeal
and becoming an expensive chore . . .until my mom called.
She was so excited when I answered the phone.
"Hi, baby" she said, "I have wonderful news."
"What?" I asked flatly as I disgustedly wiped paint
from her doll house off my hands. "We will be there for Christmas!"
she exclaimed. "Your sister and I will take the train."
"All the way from Miami?" I asked. "That's a long
train ride."
"Oh, but it's worth it, Sweetie," she signed. "Christmas
wouldn't be right without us all being together, and I hate disappointing
Christmases."
That last statement gripped my heart. "I hate disappointing
Christmases."
How many had she suffered? How many times had she, as a child,
run down the stairs excited and expecting on Christmas morning
only to find her doll house was not there again. Yet, she held
the dream alive for well over forty years. I hadn't even had the
doll house a month. How dare I complain that it was taking too
long, that it was too expensive, that it was a chore. All dreams
take time, money, and effort on someone's part.
My work took on new fervor. It was no easier, but well worth my
effort. Sentiment waned and determination set in. Soon the windows
were hung beautifully, followed by the french double doors. The
porch railings were replaced by round rods. The molding changed
to a brighter color, was applied, and just last Monday, my husband
and I completed the roofing. Her house stands breathtakingly beautiful,
incomplete, but beautiful. We have from now until Christmas to
finish the inside. As of now, my husband is wiring the house for
lights. I grow impatient as I stand by waiting to wallpaper and
carpet.
We are really coming along, honey," he says again with his
head stuck in the doll house's living room.
On Christmas morning, I nervously stood outside the guest room
where my mother was sleeping. I crept into the room with the story
clasped in my hand. She asked, "what do you have there?"
"It's part of your Christmas present," I nervously explained.
Then, we went out to the tree and she viewed our masterpiece.
The doll house did indeed outshine the Christmas tree. There are
not words sufficient to express the look in my mother's eyes,
the sparkle in her eyes finally . . . . . . .
With 1997 a short time away, I find
the analogy of this Christmas story and our born again experience
striking. Jesus pulled us from the miry pit (Ps 40:2), and we
needed much repair. We had to be torn down too in order for the
Holy Spirit to build us up. Our roof (mind, will and emotions)
was in need of sanctified thoughts to replace those sinful ones,
and yes, those broken windows represented promises made and broken.
They represented missed opportunities.
The three steps for the staircase represent
l) our born again experience, 2) our spiritual walk with Jesus,
and 3) our ministry. Wasn't
our path crooked just like the railing? The Holy Spirit had to
straighten that too. He slowly burned away the things of the flesh
to make way for the new self emerging. 2 Cor. 5:17 states "We
are new creatures in Christ Jesus". The railing represents
the support we received from others who had walked the walk. They
were always there either supplying us with tapes to enlighten
us, or communication lines were open so that we knew spiritual
help was available. .
Just as the doll house had to have
its power turned on so that all could enjoy the experience of
viewing it entirely, so we too, must keep the light of the Lord
Jesus Christ always lit as it shines upon his children. Let us
concentrate on this goal for 1997. Keep His light shining in each
of us.
"Hello, old friend," I whispered, "someone has
been waiting for you a long time.
When my mother was a little girl, every Christmas and Birthday,
she would ask for a doll house. Her family could never afford
to buy one, and her father was never sober enough to build one.
Over the years, her wish for a doll house faded into a seldom
mentioned memory. But, she did mention it to me once or twice
and still her eyes gleam when she sees a big doll house. I know
that even today the desire, still unfulfilled, is not yet dead.
