The lights,inflatable Santas and Snowmen, and the animated reindeer have invaded our suburban neighborhood for our yearly display of "hopefulness." This year, however, many houses on my block do not have their usual display of festive lights. Instead, "For Sale" and "Foreclosure" signs adorn their front yards. The Foreclosure epidemic hit our neighborhood with full force. Stories of the bad housing market are not just in the news. They are a part of our lives. Our neighbors, some we knew, some we didn't, went bankrupt and lost everything. Their only viable option was to move away--in search of better jobs, affordable homes---better lives. Or at least they hoped so.

Families originally moved into this neighborhood for better schools, bigger homes, the "suburban" lifestyle they wanted to provide for their children. Kids rode their bikes around the block and we knew each other, occasionally arranging neighborhood get-togethers. This was the best community "lifestyle" we could afford.

When gazing at the spectacular Winter Wonderland displays--moving reindeer and all, it is easy to overlook the darkness enveloping either side of the lights. Many of these dark, empty homes have stories--stories of dreams lost, financial woes leading up to foreclosures, and dim futures awaiting the families who once occupied them. The families who once had their lights ablaze with uniformity up and down the block.

After bankruptcy, one of my neighbors moved to California and is living with relatives in a tiny apartment with two small children. She has a good job working at a hotel, and the children are coping with new schools. I'd like to think that they have those hopeful lights flickering outside of their apartment. I hope they have a Christmas tree.

Another family moved to a "bad side of town" and is situated between gang violence and extreme drug use. Their children won't benefit from our schools anymore, and they will be surrounded by hopelessness. Their medical bills and rising mortgage payments did not just bankrupt their family, but it has bankrupted their futures, especially the futures of the 8 and 10 year-old boys who will be surrounded by gangs.

Now, my family is one of the few remaining members in this skeletal network of "middle-class" suburbanites. This year, however, there will be no block parties with Wassail and Christmas Carols. No loud horns on New Year's Eve. No, we are hunkering up, and many of us are wondering, "Who will be next?"

For every dormant house out there, I'd like to imagine the evicted families in warm homes where the Christmas spirit still reigns, inside and out. I'd like to imagine the kids getting ready for their Winter break, strategizing about which gifts they want to get their siblings and parents, and eagerly anticipating what Santa will bring them this year. I imagine these families surviving, and still carrying their hope on their backs--and also in their homes.

Let there be light!