So after a year of home improvement–some of it intensive, we have begun the process of refurnishing our house.

We started at furniture stores and ended up in interesting places. I admit I love Craigslist and Goodwill…

But our house looks like a hoarder’s antique shop until everything gets sorted out.

And during some of this sorting our dog made a dash for the local great Danes. Their owner was vocally and justifiably annoyed. Sigh. No good neighbor awards for me.

This fella is memorable because he is young, lightly employed, lives well, has the dogs, and constructs really freaky Halloween tableaux.

I posited the notion that he lives on a trust fund? Is a secret rock star?

My daughter ran with this idea–

Our dog got into it with the secret rock star dogs! We got candy from the secret rock star!

This is more than a humorous set piece for me. Twice now when I have staged garage sales or littered my front lawn with new-ish furniture my neighbors have cheerfully asked if we were moving?

Nope. Not a chance.

I doubt Jesus would have been much more welcome as a neighbor. The locals would have decried the endless stream of druggies and prostitutes he invited over for dinner.

And yet he was and is the real secret rock star.

My children are also my secret rock stars. The older ones patiently sit through hours of PBS kids, transform their younger siblings lives into pirate and ninja adventures and…

Expand the horizons of toes.

My younger daughter to her little brother–

this little piggy went to high school, this little piggy went to college…

I hope to walk all the way Home with these people–my children, the real secret rock stars.