Building my house

"Mom, you're really good at building with Legos."

I had just reattached a door that had come off its "hinges" on a house that I built out of Legos months ago for my son. It's your standard rectangle, window at one end, door at the other, slanted tiles at the edges of the roof and one for the front stoop, too.

To tell the truth, I've never been all that good at building with Legos (though the one nice touch on this house, in my opinion, is that all the colors are symmetrical...not that my son would ever notice such a detail).

Anyhow, for an almost-five-year-old who's just mastering the art of building, this is an impressive structure, one he puts on a high shelf when friends come over so it won't get smashed.

But the door came off...and as it turns out, not only can I build a pretty solid Lego house, but I can do a mean door repair, too.

The Proverbs tell me that "The wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down" (Prov 14:1). If only it were as easy as Legos.

What does it mean for me to "build my house"? To encourage, to provide comfort, to quench, to love, to teach, to mend...to reattach what comes unhinged. It's no small order. What comes unhinged for a husband is very different than for a kindergartener, which is very different from what comes unhinged for a severely disabled toddler. Not to mention all those guests--temporary residents--who cross my threshold and whose doors I may need to rehinge, too: playmates, family visitors, neighbors, coworkers.

Even in my small house, keeping it built up--not to mention avoiding tearing it down--is a tall order. Perhaps someday my son will pay me the ultimate compliment on my house-building again...but not just with Legos. Until then, I'll keep building.