The Light House

 
On one of our many walks through Riobamba, Ecuador, through all types of neighborhoods, we came across this house.  It was situated on a corner lot with a little bit of land in the back and on the side.  The side grounds looked as though someone had planted a garden months ago but had never come back to harvest it. The roof was in bad need of repair.  The window frames were decayed and some of the panes were cracked.  We could tell that in its past life, the stucco had been brighter, but months, perhaps years, of neglect displayed a dingy coat of grayish grunge.  Some of the stucco had loosened itself from near the top of the chimney, showing a once strong red brick.  A tall, metal structure cradled a large water tub, a useful reservoir during water outages.   If we tiptoed at the metal fence, we could peak through the windows and into the empty rooms.  A light layer of dust covered the floors and emptiness covered the walls. From our observation, large houses like this one were not common in this Andean mountainous town. We always stopped to speculate who might have lived here.  Strolling slowly past the steel fence, we listed possible professions of the owner: lawyer, doctor, manufacturer, business man, farmer.  We went back there several times to look at the lifeless structure.  We did not want to go inside, and the house did not extend an invitation to come inside.
There is not any light here; it is a dark house.

On the other hand, we often drive by or walk past a house that flashes life and visually communicates, "Come inside for a cup of coffee!"  Some structures actually make us stop because they are approachable. There is spirit and color externally, so there has to be a sprightliness and life story internally.  We are drawn. The shade trees cast a long shadow from either a setting or rising sun and the window panes reflect a clean sky.  The gold and red flowers are fully-budded and trimmed.  There is a fence, but even that is not an impediment to the invitation this house extends to the passerby.  Who resides here that they maintain such comfort and solace for all to freely observe?  There is light here. This is a Light House. 

 

 We are little houses. As we enter 2013, may we be the Light House  - approachable, offering a life story that explains the reason for the spirit and solace that lives within us.

 

 

Happy New Year!

 

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