Barbie's Dream House

I was disappointed. I wanted a Barbie Dream House made of cardboard for Christmas, and I didn’t get one. Instead, Santa brought a hand-crafted, specially-designed dream house, a one-of-a kind model made just for me by my dad. But I didn’t want it. I wanted the cardboard one that my cousin already had. Why in the world would I want a doll house made just for me when I could have the same one mass-produced for every girl in America?

I’m still mad at myself for being mad about the doll house!

Daddy died a few years later, but I still have the doll house he created just for me. Now 50 years old, it’s as sturdy as it was when Santa delivered it that Christmas morning to a young girl who was clueless about the things that last.

I have no idea how many hours Daddy worked on my dream house. I do know that he fashioned it with his own hands in his own shop and with own tools. With materials he selected. And he filled it with love especially for me.

It’s all in the details and the workmanship and the materials.

In fact, Barbie’s closet holds more accessories than mine does now! There’s a place for everything – shoes and suitcases and pajamas and even a bowl of knitting yarn. I guess I forgot that Barbie could knit!

Why in the world would I want a cardboard cut-out version from a box instead of a special one created by my father?

Looking back through my 60-year-old eyes, I was like the little girl hanging on to the fake pearls even though her dad wanted to give her the genuine ones.

Daddy loved me anyway. He didn’t know about the cardboard yearning I had to be like everyone else. And if he had known, he would have forgiven me. Daddy knew I loved him. Saint Bill – that’s what Ian calls my dad! In my memories, he’s perfect. Smart and talented, tall and strong, handsome and crazy about my mom and my sister and me. Really, that last thing is all that mattered. That, and the fact that he loved Jesus.

The pull-out drawers were labeled and a string underneath kept them from opening when the doll house was closed. Daddy anticipated the problems and solved them before they occurred!

There’s a steel rod to hang the outfits on and shelves for the extra accessories, things I didn’t have at the moment, but items I was to accumulate over the years.

And many of the clothes were handmade as well, crafted by my mom and granny, and preserved in my Barbie Dream Home, not of cardboard.

When I packed and moved my mom to Bellville after 40 years in her home in Houston, the stuff that was piled in the attic disintegrated before our eyes. The cardboard boxes crumbled into tufts of paper, useful only for sneezing. I have no idea what those boxes were or what they contained.

But my unique, original, one-of-a-kind dream house? As good as new! Probably better, really, for now it’s more appreciated than ever before. Because of the man who made it.

So these next few days, as we celebrate the gift of our Savior sent by His Father to save us from our sins, may we yearn for the genuine Jesus and not a cardboard cut-out dream. May we overflow with love for our Heavenly Father, who created us and loves us even when we don’t appreciate Him fully.  And may we be filled with His Holy Spirit as we spread God's love and joy and peace to those around us. 

Merry Christmas!

¹⁰ And the angel said unto them,

Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

¹¹ For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

¹² And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

¹³ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

¹⁴ Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Luke 2:10-14