Recently, Ken and I bought a new couch.

Taking advantage of an unbelievable sale, brought our attention to our destroyed living room carpet.  Which lead to new hardwood.  The investment beneath our feet, then prompted us to look above our heads.  That’s when we couldn’t ignore the water damage any longer.

The cause of the damage has long since been addressed.  The cuts and bruises just left a nasty scar on our living room ceiling, that needed some minor surgery…but surgery nonetheless.

Since, April 3, 2007, the day we officially purchased our 1,000 square foot bungalow, Ken and I have been trying to heal this blue-collar baby back to her glory.  We bought her for her guts and lot in life, but nearly everything else has required deep, complete, and expensive love and care.

Though, when we closed all those years ago, I had no idea just how much love and care our place would open.

Every project our home has gently requested or forcefully demanded, has brought with it the exceptional talents and overwhelming generosity of an entire community rooting for it, and us, to succeed.

Fathers supplied all of the plumbing fixtures, put in bathrooms, windows, and all new floor joists. Mothers, brothers, and sisters willingly signed on for back-breaking demo, landscaping, cabinet installing, sheet rocking, and floor laying.

And, then the friends – who are also family.  Mudding, taping, painting, digging, fixing, consulting, hanging, roofing…they did, they have, and they continue to help us with all of it.

And today was no exception.

Our expert home surgeon friend – who works exceptionally hard and has far too few hours off – was here, helping Ken suture our ceiling and scheduling a follow-up visit for later this week to finish the job and see the patient totally healed.

And, tonight, as I caught the light drawing my attention to this lovingly attended wound, I just started singing in my head:

This little light of ours, we’re gonna let it shine.  Together Shine, Together Shine, Together Shine.