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My family owns a cottage on the Outer Banks that my parents bought in 1969. It’s one of the old flat tops that were designed to fit aesthetically into the landscape. In recent years the flat tops have been torn down and replaced by huge multi-family houses, and in order to raise awareness of the history of the flat tops, owners were invited to open their homes to visitors for tours. Some of my siblings and I hosted the most recent tour back in April.
There was record attendance this year, and our house was filled all afternoon. As I stood at the front door greeting people, I noticed a man who was examining the door to the bedroom off the living area. After a few minutes, he came over and started talking to me about how the door was constructed and how wonderful the hinges were, rare and possibly handmade. He thanked me for giving him the chance to see them, and I was touched by his gratitude.
That house has been my heart’s home for 55 years, longer than any place I have ever lived; it’s my safe haven, and I didn’t know until this spring that we had remarkable hinges. Since that visitor described them to me, I notice hinges wherever I go now, and I think, “Those are okay, but they aren’t as good as our hinges.” As we wait this Advent season for the way to open, and as we seek strength for the journey ahead of us, I think about the beautiful hinges that were hidden in plain sight for 55 years, waiting to be revealed to me by a stranger. I wonder what other tiny hidden gifts are going to come to us this season, surprising us with joy and hope.
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