So I’m driving past this house, one I pass every day en route to work. Well, technically, I’m riding past it, because Charlie and I are traveling in the same car these days. It’s a tired, little house, desperately in need of some new clothes and a good, long soak in a restorative bath. A new hat to cover its head, a little window dressing, and a manicure would do wonders.

Maybe that’s why I notice — really notice for the first time — its beautiful porch light. The brass gleams, the glass is crystal clear, the glow of light in the early morning softens and pleases. I’m taken aback, because it’s such a juxtaposition of new and old, of fresh beauty and old bones, of — yes, this is it! — pride and neglect.

Pride and neglect. That single glowing addition speaks of pride of ownership. Not the kind of pride that’s ego-based, but the pride that’s deep inside, that says “I value this place, this tired place, and it has much to offer. IT.IS.MY.HOME.” Pride and caring can be found in the most humble of places, and neglect can be found in the most haughty of places. Sometimes that’s easy to forget. and way too easy to judge.

I’m grateful for this lesson. Whether it has brand new bones or old familiar worn ones, it’s home. And if there’s pride in that place, it will show. Even if it’s just a shiny, new porch light that glows with welcome. And that’s just as important as the most well-dressed house on the block.