I remembered an old piece of property that was left to me, so I thought I would drive out to see it. My father left me an old family home in his will. He left it for me so that I could bring life to it and make it my home one day. As it came across my mind, I decided to go view the home. As I got to where the driveway once was, I realized it was now just a path covered in high grass. So I parked and made my way through the knee high weeds and made it to the house. What this was, was far from a home. I thought to myself that noone in their right mind could live in this place. I wondered what people thought of this place and thought of my family as they drove by. I couldn't believe the shape it was in. Where once it had been a beautiful shade of white, it was hardly white at all. I don't even think that is a true color that is on there now. The poarch swing only hung by one chain and the porch itself was hardly a porch at all. Broken wood and everything destroyed. As I cautiously made my way through the "house" I walked in every room. I remembered there by the fireplace my grandmother reading to me as a kid. I revisited every room and in every room I could recall the most precious of memories. I had so many in there. I remember all the Thanksgiving's and Christmas' we celebrated. I can remember running through every room of the house playing around. I grew up there. Every year as I grew older something precious that I hold dear occurred there in that house, that is now not a house at all. I stood in every room and re-lived many different moments. Then just pacing back and forth I noticed all the layers of dust that now decorated the house. It had "polished" off every picture, every dish, every candle, and every book. I could see family pictures hanging sideways and as I blew off the dust I could make out the faces. The treasure that remained in that house was so rich, but had of course been destroyed by poor care and abandonment. It broke my heart to see all the damage that had been done, all because it was left to me and I completely ignored it. I needed a miracle. Because I had lack of skill, I knew I couldn't fix it. My hands to this mess would be worthless. I looked and looked for a carpenter who could fix it and actually had interest in restoring it to it's full potential. Noone in the directory was interested, but then as I visited my old town I overheard some people talking about a man who was only known by few. The talked of the power in his hands. I interrupted the people talking, and asked them the information on this carpenter. So they filled my ears with details and then I got in touch with him. We both looked at the house and I was almost embarassed to even take anyone to the mess of a building. When he drove up, and observed the house, he looked at it in a way I never EVER expected. He glanced at it with awe. After he looked at it for what seemed like an hour, his only words were "this is beautiful!" I looked at it, then I looked at him, and in my mind I totally disagreed. He said this is going to be a process, and not an easy task. But then he said, it is my joy to rebuild this thing. His countanence was like that of a kid at Christmas. He took this task with all excitement. Well days, weeks, and even months passed. I wondered when this was going to be "beautiful" again. When would it be restored? This was the longest process... the cleaning and taking out the things that didn't belong seemed to take a month itself. Then came the rebuilding, which took months, then the actual restoring of the paint and interior... so many details. Well after several months, (it took longer than it takes the average people to completely buid a house) it was finished. I drove up and saw a white fence with a beautiful gate and a gravel drive way. The porch no longer had vines and the wood was a spectaclar finish. The swing blowing in the breeze. The door so inviting and welcoming, so I entered. A fire burning, pictures hung upright. Everything was perfect, the furniture, lamps, kitchen. It smelled as if dinner was being prepared. Every room decorated with such home like furniture. This was better than before and more beautiful than what I expected. I asked the carpenter how he knew to decorate it as it had been before but only better. And he replied, as a boy I watched my father build this house, and now even into my ripe old age I still remember his blue print and every intricate detail. I asked how I could pay him and he said it was already paid. I didn't understand this man at all. He said I could pay him back by keeping it up, inviting guests over, and telling people the story of restoration. Then he walked outside and stared at the house, with tears flowing down his cheeks. Still, I could not figure out all the emotion. With the tears still flowing down, He asked me to please let this home grow and flourish, constantly being full of life and to act as a safe haven from the outside. So, I agreed to this man, then I watched him just slowly walk down the road. This house was perfect, but it was only the beginning for all to come. That night I sat by the fire, and saw headlight after headlight after headlight... people had come from surrounding cities to see this masterpiece, and I could take zero credit for all that had been done. It was all about him, that humble carpenter, who saw the beauty before anyone, and then turned it into a gorgeous creation.