Just about two years ago I wrote this post about the frustrations of trying to "Love Your Neighbor". It's a short post - I encourage you to pop over and read it.
The first year we lived in this home we were irritated by the amount of time our neighbor boy spent at our house. It felt burdensome to have to watch over him. Here we are, two years later, and we don't know what we would do without him.
Our neighbors who felt oppressive when we first moved in have become dear to us. Our girls wait impatiently for their little friend to get off the bus from school and have been counting down the days with him for school to let out. His grandparents put up a swing set just on their side of the property line and invite our home schooled girls to have "recess" on their swing set. They built a sandbox and we filled it with sand. We share freeze pops, and band aids, and occasionally bathrooms. We celebrate birthdays together.
Recently we have been grieving together. The oldest woman living next door (in her 80s) just lost her daughter, aged 64. The daughter has battled a kidney disease for 14 years. Her daughter had built the house we live in and lost it to foreclosure. The older woman, who shares a name with my own grandmother (though is much older than my grandmother) has become so so precious to me. I bring Caroline over to her to visit almost every day. She loves to chat about the weather, about what Caroline is doing now, shares her concerns over the way Caroline's foot turns out and the fact that she isn't walking yet. She has buried a son, a husband, and a daughter.
And today we talked of the past. She shared pictures of her son, of her daughter when she was healthy (I only saw her when she was very sick), and her husband. She shared stories of her husband who was paralyzed from the waist down after a freak accident. He was logging some trees, and the chain holding the logs snapped, and broke his back. The man never let it hold him down. He was inspiring. She wishes I could have met him. I wish I could have met him.
Who has changed in this story? Perhaps all of us. The little boy has gotten older. I am no longer in that state of shock after having our foster children and feeling the need to keep my girls quite so close to me. Time has a way of changing us. I'm not as selfish with our evenings. I have grown to love these people over the past two years. It's such a good reminder to not let those first interactions set in stone the course ahead. I'm grateful to God for softening my heart. In fact, we were unsure that there was a relative fit to care for our little neighbor boy if something should happen suddenly to his grandparents. After inquiring and finding that there was I was happy for him, but it showed me how my heart would have gladly taken him in if he needed us.
Two years ago I would have never imagined that what I once thought of as a tiresome burden would become one of the biggest blessings in my life. The blessing of friendship in unexpected places.
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