Why I Love Downton Abbey

I really truly love Downton Abbey. I can give you the technical stuff- the writing is excellent, the actors, the location, All of it feels very true to life.  Dame Maggie Smith plays the matriarch of the family and the best lines are reserved for her.
The family is taken care of by servants, Who hasn't dreamed about someone fixing their hair everyday?

The huge house. Really who needs that much space? I would like to find out.

Twenty-five years or so ago I went to the Biltmore Estate in Asheville North Carolina. Then as a teenager I could not fathom a life that was lived in that house. I couldn't picture kids screaming and running amuck. I couldn't see a family gathered in the kitchen eating dinner. I loved that house. That is the frame of reference that I have for Downton Abbey. 

I love the characters on Downton. I have become involved in their lives. I cheer when they get married and cry when they are hurt. I want those who harm the family to receive their comeuppance.

All of these are legitimate reasons why I love Downton.

My favorite reason is that I watch it with my brother. He is several states and hundreds of miles away but I know that he is watching. I watch because I know that he watching the exact same thing as me,

My brother is seven years older than me..almost to the day, our birthdays are two days apart. He left for college the year I started seventh grade. I was a horrible child. I was the youngest and I have been told I was spoiled and always got my way. (I do not believe that in the least.) As we got older we grew apart. He married and did great things. I stumbled around for a while. I was self-centered and often rude and mean. He loved me anyway. I got married and learned that the world did not indeed revolve around me. (I was greatly disappointed.)

Seven or eight years ago a series of events caused me to have a crisis of faith. I questioned everything I had grown up knowing. I had been hurt deeply by a person in my church. I wasn't sure that I even wanted to go back to church. I did not know where to turn or who to talk to. After many weeks of struggle I called my brother. And he listened. For over an hour he listened to me cry and question. He did it all without judgement. He did not tell me to just pray about it and it would get better. He told me it was okay to question. He told me I did not have to agree with everything the preacher said. He told me I was going to be okay. That was a turning point I believe for us. I think had it not been for him I would have fallen apart during that time.

I have learned to depend on this great, godly, wonderful man that my brother had become. he has taught me to be non-judgmental. God loves everyone, regardless of color, shape or size. I have seen him travel to foreign countries so people can feel the love of Christ. I have seen him love his wife for over 30 years. I have watched him raise a red headed little boy into a red headed man with the same love for people that his father has. When our mom was sick he came for a week so our siblings who lived in the same town as the hospital could have a break. When Mom died he was there again.

When I graduated college he came. I would have understood if he had not. He had been back here four times in the past year and that was hard on him. He gave up his birthday so he could be with me.

It was hard for him growing up being the oldest of four. Towing his little sister with him to friends houses, sharing birthday parties with a girl seven years younger than him. Knowing two other siblings depended on him. He persevered, (Maybe I am part of the reason he is a great person? Hmmm.)

Growing up I hear more than once that I needed to be more like my brother. Now as an adult that would be the best compliment that a person could give me, that I was like my brother.