Neighbors

Melissa and I have been walking the neighborhood for exercise this past week or so - ever since spring decided to finally arrive. And, often as we walk, we pray.  It's only natural, therefore, that I have found myself praying a few times for my neighbors lately. 

It will be two years ago this coming August that we moved in with Melissa's mother after renting out our own house in order to pay down some debts before entering the mission field full time.  We never thought we would be here this long, but you know how time flies.  Trudy has been more than gracious to us and we have all we need here.

Still, we miss our old neighborhood.  It had a different feel to it than any other place we had ever lived.  People KNEW each other.  And I always suspected that was due in no small part to a couple from our church who took it upon themselves to host occasional ice cream socials for all the neighbors. 

Yesterday was our first gorgeous Saturday of the year around here and the list of outside chores was so long that I had the luxury of picking a handful that I actually didn't mind doing.  First up was the birdhouse we gave Trudy for Christmas.  I put it together a few weeks ago, but didn't have a ladder tall enough to get it to the top of the pole beside her house. 

Now I am not the most assertive person (to say the least).  So yesterday I briefly considered buying a new ladder, but I kept coming back to the thought that there were probably a dozen tall ladders in our neighborhood and it would only make sense to find one close by to borrow - it just meant that I would have to approach a complete stranger to ask for a favor.  God's been working with me on assertiveness (fundraising for Haiti has been one long lesson in assertiveness) and I had a hunch this thought was from Him.

So I gathered all my tools and the birdhouse around the base of the pole, and when there was nothing more I could do without an actual ladder, I walked over to the house next door.  It turns out my neighbor's name is Ron and he owns a 20 foot extension ladder.  Perfect!  He was super friendly and told me just to put the ladder back beside his house when I was done with it.

Upon completing the birdhouse project, I started looking around for other jobs that needed a ladder.  The most obvious was a giant branch that had been broken by a storm in one of the big maples out front.  The branch had been lodged horizontally 15 feet up in the tree for a year.  It looked terrible, but we had all gotten used to it. 

So I went after it with my borrowed ladder and my saws-all ... which is not as useful as a chainsaw.  Melissa came out to watch and she didn't say a word, but she gave the distinct impression she was waiting for an accident and readying a response consisting of "I told you so" or dialing 911, or both, depending on the severity.

Thankfully, the guy who lives across the street came outside, introduced himself (Virgil!) and offered the use of his chainsaw.  (I don't know why it had not occurred to me that there were probably just as many chainsaws in the neighborhood as there are extension ladders.)

So after a year and a half of meeting nobody around here, in one day I met Ron and Virgil.  The day left me pondering something I had noticed about Jesus' Good Samaritan parable in Luke 10 the last time I looked at it: The teacher of the law prompts the parable by asking, "Who is my neighbor?" and Jesus finishes his story with the flip-side question of "Who acted as a neighbor to the man?"  In essence, Jesus is saying that there's no litmus test for what constitutes a neighbor in regards to "Love your neighbor as you love yourself". 

But our literal neighbors would be an excellent and logical starting point.  Melissa and I are hoping that we will be moving from this neighborhood in a few months, but until we do, I want to find tangible ways to love our literal neighbors. If we are called to be salt and light, shouldn't that start in our own neighborhoods?  And doesn't going into "all the world" with the gospel necessarily (and perhaps especially) begin with the families and individuals on our block?

I'm feeling convicted.  It feels like another of those basic lessons God is teaching me during this period of waiting.

Especially after today.  Yesterday I met Ron and Virgil for the first time.  Today, an ambulance and several police cars showed up at the house on the other side of Ron's house.  Apparently someone there committed suicide.  I know nothing of the circumstances.  I don't even know the name of the deceased or anyone who lives in the house.

I wish I did. 

And I'm sure I should.

I'm starting to think an ice cream social might be a good starting point.