When my wife and I bought our last house, I was leery. It was a beautiful house on a fantastic street, but it was over our budget and had several issues. And it was lacking two things on my “must have” list. But my wife was convinced it was where God wanted us to live. And so, against my better judgement, we bought the house. Eventually, I came to believe that my wife was correct: this was where our family was meant to be. The neighborhood was as safe as can be, the yard was perfect for our children and dog, the house was the ideal size for our small family, and we were within walking distance from the school, the playground, the village square and the ice cream shop. But what pushed it over the edge for me was our neighbors.

I have had good neighbors in the past. I’ve had folks next door who were nice, who would shoot the breeze with me, or who would help me with things from time to time. But never have I known folks who were instantly as open and giving as our neighbors, Brian and Karen. During the three years that they have been my neighbors, I’ve only eaten with them a handful of times, have never gone on a double date with them, and have rarely even had them into our house. Yet I feel like I have known them all my life. It was a common occurrence for an afternoon of mowing to come to a pleasant halt when Brian and I would meet at our property lines. We rarely talked about anything serious. Yet we didn’t just talk about the weather either. We had real conversations. We shared stories, laughed, and made plans for future camping trips and golf outings. We often met in our respective garages to see what projects were under way. We helped each other move heavy things. We loaned each other tools and vehicles. We shot silly things with pellet guns. We shared advice. And we talked about our families and our faith. When my wife gave birth to our son Emmitt, Brian and Karen were the first non-family members to meet him. We walked him next door just hours after he was born. Not two years later, Brian and Karen had their first child, Eric.  Brian and I talked often about how great it was going to be for our children to grow up together. Karen was trained in child care and had offered many times to watch our children. While not all things were as they should be, it seemed that God had truly put my family in an idyllic situation. And then all my dreams came crashing down.

Brian and Karen no longer live next door. Or more correctly, I no longer live next door to them. I have been forced to move due to circumstances out of my control. I rarely make it over to the house now. And it will be on the market in a matter of days or weeks. But when I do make it to the house, I often make a point to stop by and see Brian and Karen. Just like a did tonight. I tentatively knocked on their door at 9:30pm, wondering if I was being rude. I was instantly welcomed in, offered something to drink and a cozy chair. And we talked and laughed for an hour and a half. It was a much needed break from the difficulties that I am facing each and every day.

For the time being, I still live in the town where my wife and I had planned to raise our children, though Brian and Karen no longer live next door. But they will always be my neighbors. And I thank God for them. God bless Brian, Karen and Eric.

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