I bought two pieces of discount furniture the other day. Together, they cost $800, which is a lot of money for me, but certainly not extravagant when it comes to furniture.
The delivery guys arrived and brought everything in.
"I looked at your address," the one said, "and I thought, I don't think anyone in that neighborhood has $800! Who bought this?"
He made me laugh. I didn't tell him this area is called, "The Hole", although he probably knew that. But he also made me remember what I love about the Brady Street neighborhood.
1.) I love the pioneer spirit of my neighbors for whom English is a second language, who are finding their place in this new world. I love how my street clears out at 5am with nearly everyone leaving for work. I love how the melting pot of skin tones and languages creates a down-to-earth practical atmosphere, giving our neighborhood Martin's supermarket a distinct stamp of originality that can't be experienced at the Martin's in Nappanee, Goshen, or Granger.
2.) I love my neighbor whose name I don't know who walks his three dogs with the curled tails who must be some kind of husky. I've tried to speak to him before, but he seems to like his privacy. I love how he lives his own life and doesn't worry about keeping up with anyone.
3.) I love the spontaneity of the clusters of people and cats walking up and down the back alley that runs behind my house. Social norms are irrelevant to both species. And I too like being able to walk everywhere: to the grocery store, the post office, the Corner Cafe, and to work.
4.) I love the generosity of my Hispanic neighbors, who press plates of tortillas and steak into my hands. I love the generosity of my neighbor Mary, who cooks up a storm of cakes and soups and salads whenever she's in danger of having company. I love the generosity of my neighbor Judy, who lent me her baby stroller for my audacious baby-sitting venture last week.
5.) I love my neighbor John, who carefully steps around the neighborhood with his cane, the clogged arteries of his heart lately bypassed by my boss, Dr. Halloran. His daily walks around the neighborhood are an inspiration to many people. Speaking of our generous Hispanic neighbors, they have also taken him in. The other day there was a picnic in the back yard, complete with paper party hats balanced on the heads of adults and a discordant rendition of "Happy Birthday". When I walked out to my car a bit later, the neighbors stopped me to hand a giant piece of cake over the chain link fence: it was John's birthday, and they had thrown him a party, and would I like a piece of cake?
6.) I love the parents who spend time with their kids at the park...a dad holding a baby, a mom catching a child on the slide. People on Brady Street take time with their families. Perhaps the work ethic standard is not high....but there's a great privilege in being able to sit on your porch and chat, and wave at the neighbors going by.
7.) I won't lie: my neighborhood is also home to empty beer bottles and staggering drinkers.... kids in the playground yelling, "I don't ever see my dad either, and do you see me crying? NO! I f****** hate my dad!"....adults who seem to compete to see how many times that previous word can be used in a sentence....shocking obscenities shouted across the street.... neighbors calling the police because of the crack dealer next door....all the things the furniture delivery guy meant.
But what I love in this is that the peace in my heart is more precious to me when I see these things....the conviction that God is good becomes more real....the privilege I had to grow up in shelter and safety means more....my desire to be a transparent conduit of God's love grows stronger.
God's light is stronger than the deepest darkness! And that is where it shines most brightly.
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