Getting Involved with People Different from Me - 3

My neighborhood is diverse. I like that about my neighborhood. We have white families, black families, hispanic families, young families, older couples, middle-agers like us. We aren't a very prosperous neighborhood, but it doesn't seem to matter much. I feel safe there. When we first moved in, of course, I felt uncertain like anyone does in a new location. But, as we've gotten to know our neighbors a little and been around home, it seems like a great place to be.

We have made friends with almost all our neighbors. My husband is a very neighborly person. I was raised on a farm and our neighbors were quite spread out, and my family of origin liked it that way. When Steve and I married and moved into town, I was terribly uncomfortable in the city. It was never dark. It was always noisy. There were people close to the house... it felt like people walking by on the street were in my yard! On the farm, it would have been in our large yard! But, now, I like sitting on the front porch in the summertime, watching people walk by, waving at anyone who seems friendly, whether I know them or not. So many people say something friendly-like, and it feels like we have community. My husband is extrememly extroverted -- he's never seen a stranger, only friends he hasn't met yet. It's taken me a long time to get used to this trait, and he's put me into quite a few uncomfortable circumstances, but it has taught me something very important. No matter how different we are, we all want the same things: someone to affirm you, someone to encourage you and someone to love you.

I feel proud of my neighbors. They might be surprised to hear it. I'm not sure why I have this warm feeling toward them, except perhaps for the fact that they are so friendly and that they are the reason my neighborhood feels safe to me. But, I also feel some pride for my hispanic neighbors who always seem to have friends over. I feel pride for the unemployed, undocumented mother raising five children with grace and humility. I feel pride for the older couple who can't work easily in their yard, but continue to persist with help from their adult children. I feel proud of our overly fastidious neighbor who literally walks around his yard picking up stray leaves that fall after raking, and grooming his tiny lawn to perfection. I am proud of the white dread-locked neighbor who helped me jump-start my car the very first day we came to our new home to clean it before we moved in. I feel pride for us, too. I am proud that I can come from a farm and make peace with living in the city. I am proud that my husband knows all the neighbors and all their names... and can remember them. I am proud of my son who sits on the front porch, or climbs out the back window to sit on the roof, and plays his guitar and sings, hopefully delighting the passersby and the neighbors.

All these folks are different from me. But, they now belong to me, to my heart, in a special way from hence forward.