The Old Brown House....UPDATE!

Almost ten years ago, I wrote a post about an old, brown house that I would pass each day on my way to work. I described the dilapidated fence, the overgrown shrubs, the collapsing roof and the quiet sadness that seemed to stand guard from the lonely front porch. I also described my longing for the house to be fixed and transformed into something beautiful.

As I wrote about my longing for transformation and change in that weary brown house, I lamented about how much it seemed to mirror how discouraged it felt to hope for healing and change and to never see it.

As most blogs about Hope should do, I tried to reframe the discouragement and to tell myself (and hopefully you) that just because we cannot see the change, it does not mean that healing and change are not happening. I did not want to dismiss the truth that He who began a good work in us will carry it to completion (Philippians 1:6) and deeply believed (and still do) that we often see God’s presence and love in our darkest places.

And yet if I am honest, stories of pain, addiction, suffering, and brokenness started to take their toll on my sensitive heart. I wondered whether it mattered to keep trying to find the hope in our stories when so many of us seemed to fight our way to the top of one murky pit only to find ourselves in another one. And so year after year, as I would pass the brown house, I just shrugged and said, “Oh well, I guess that is just the way it will always be.”

Until it wasn’t.

I no longer drive past the brown house on my morning commute, so imagine my surprise the other day when I found myself on that familiar street and casually looked over to see the brown house but saw THIS instead….

I couldn’t believe it and sat there staring at the house for so long that someone had to honk to get me to move.

So many years later, the brown house was transformed into something new.

Yes, I know, people flip houses all of the time, but as I explained, this brown house was more than a house to me. It stood as a reminder to me to face my desire for change and healing and to wrestle through what it means when both seem out of reach. It challenged me to think through what hope looks like in spite of and because of suffering. It caused me to wrestle with what I really believe about God and His promise to continue His good work in me. And last week, standing there all transformed and new and blue, that house reminded me that sometimes, transformation and healing show up when you least expect it, beyond what you could ask or imagine.

Thank you, brown house. Your beautiful transformation matters even more because of all that your brokenness taught me first.