Sonrise Magazine

artwork by Amy Heath

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When we first moved to the little house and acre of land we purchased on “the Rez” we couldn’t help but notice an old house that we passed every time we drove the 2 miles to or from town.  It was 1992 and we had found the home we had been looking for (little house, big garage and a little bit of land) on the Tulalip Reservation just outside of Marysville WA.

Tulalip wasn’t at all like the reservations I had seen growing up in Minnesota. The ones I had seen there were sad, depressed communities with poverty seemingly on display everywhere.  But the Tulalip is located on the beautiful shores of Puget Sound and the pockets of homes made up neighborhoods that were generally well kept and filled with families. The seven tribes making up “the Tulalips” were hard working and business-minded, with a number of large and prosperous businesses on their land that were a staple part of the Marysville community.

So this old house was, in my mind, quite the “sore thumb.” It stood up on a rise, right on the main road leading in and out of the Rez. No one could miss it as they drove by. In 1992 it was already pretty dilapidated; void of any shred of paint and with blackberries growing out the front windows from what had been the inside of a pretty large home. Not far behind this old house was a newer rambler, and other houses were nearby on both sides.  Why on earth would they want to keep such an eye sore in their front yard?

One day, after some years had gone by and we had watched the blackberry bushes grow taller and thicker on the inside the house, and the roof finally cave in completely, I asked a Native friend about the house.  “What is it about that old dilapidated house? Why doesn’t someone tear it down?” I asked. 

What I learned humbled me and gave me new eyes to see that old house.

Many years ago, during the years when the Tulalips were not yet so well off, before the casino was built and Walmart was a household word, there were lots of children out here on the Rez who needed a little extra love and supervision. And some of them needed more than “a little”. There were too many children who were neglected and hungry with no one to notice.  Sadly that is the life of too many children today in lots of communities everywhere.

But there was someone who did notice. She was an old woman even then, I was told. She noticed these children who had only an empty dark house to go home to after school, with not even bread and peanut butter in the cupboard for their dinner. So she began to spread the word that children were welcome at her home.  Anytime.  At mealtime, after school, before school, and even overnight if needed. She noticed and she did something about it. She opened her heart and her home to love the children who were otherwise starving in so many ways. I don’t know for sure if she was a Christian, but she surely showed the love of Jesus to those children who came to sit at her table.

Eventually as years passed, those kids grew up and things changed on the Rez. The old woman reached the end of her days and finally she died. But the house remained.

My friend told me that old house was left standing as a tribute to the memory of what that woman did for the children of the Tulalip. Leaving it to slowly go the way of all things, to decay and once again become part of the earth it stood upon, was a way to honor her memory and all she had given to so many children over the years.

That old dilapidated house, with blackberries growing thickly out of its front room windows and the roof now settled on the old foundation, is no longer an eyesore.  It is a solemn and lovely reminder of someone who cared for others. And whose memory is kept on display for all to see.

How often do we tear down some old building that has long outlived its beauty or usefulness to make way for progress? That progress might be another bigger and better building, a tract of new homes, a store to serve the community, or even a parking lot. I get it. Progress marches on.

But when it’s possible to preserve, if not the beauty of a place at least in some way the memory of what happened there, that is honorable and so lovely.

This Christmas, as we celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus, let us also remember and thank Him for those who have quietly served the little children. Lord, help me preserve what is beautiful in my life to honor You and those whom You used to create that memory.