Thinking back even further to the days on Staten Island, before the bridge, and even after, when I was still a child. I never, never, ever heard my parents talk about any of our neighbors unless it was to say that they were doing something with them or something of the sort. We were a very tight knit neighborhood and supported each other through all the challenges that life gave us. My parents taught me a valuable lesson about looking out for each other.
That feeling remained with me when I moved into this neighborhood 17 years ago. I used to have an older Italian woman living next door. Our backyards did not have a fence between them so very often I would sit in mine and she in hers and we would chat. My yard was all grass at the time so I would help her weed her little piece of Italy. She had a beautiful little yard with fruit trees lining a brick walk and grapevines covering an open trellis above her patio. Assorted flowers dotted her landscape as well. I used to love the smells wafting from her kitchen too or waking to the sounds of the operas that she had playing on her CD player. Often times I would wake to the opera music early in the morning and I just knew that she had her canvas set up and was painting in the yard. She often did that. In the front of the houses was our garden. When I first moved in it was half grass (my side) and half bushes and flowers (hers). After one season I thought this looks so stupid, so I ripped up the grass, mirrored her side on my own and then infused more flowers onto both sides. Many a Spring, Summer and even Autumn when we were experiencing an Indian Summer we would sit out there and weed the garden and just chat. Those moments are ones that I still cherish. Mary moved away when she got sick and never had the heart to say goodbye to me but that is okay. It would have broken my heart to say goodbye. She is now with God, having passed away a few years after her move, and I am sure tending to an incredible garden in paradise while listening to an incredible choir.
On the other side was a family with two kids. That family was loud and boisterous, but what I call good people. Of course the neighborhood was brimming with kids. Many of them used to come and sit with me and help me in the garden. They would then come and show their parents what they had planted and sometimes I would give them a plant of their own to put in their bedroom. Grace used to play with the kids too. She would often frolic on my neighbors grass with the kids laughing with glee because she was kissing their faces. Gosh I loved this neighborhood and all of my neighbors.
Lately? It has become a struggle to live here. Neighborhoods change, people move, life goes on. I miss the small town U.S.A. that I grew up in. I miss the caring and compassion of years gone by. I am finding it incredibly difficult to love my neighbor when they are standing in front of my home gossiping about people (including me). My crime? The guy next door got some poison ivy in HIS yard. My response? Yank it out; just like I yanked it out of my yard two months ago. Ivy happens and spreads. Get over it. This same guy? Stole my snow shovel during the Christmas blizzard a few years ago and then lent it out to the guy next to him. He also stole my weed whacker and a 500 foot extension cord a few Summers ago. This year? He called the health department on us. They arrived, looked at the backyard and said what is this guys problem? There is nothing out there. Case closed. Some neighbors are just not very neighborly.
Jesus gave us a very tall order -
You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? So be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect - Matthew 5:43-48.*
To be honest, I am struggling with it at the moment. I do not know if it is because I am tired and not feeling well or what but my pollyanna, rose colored glasses, the glass is always half full outlook on life is wearing around the edges. The only thing that I can do is arm myself with a rosary and meditate with an open heart and often. Not only will I pray for strength for myself I will also pray for my neighbor. Most of all I will forgive him and move on. That is what Jesus would want me to do and as hard as it is to do, it is the proper thing to do anyway. Just let it all go. That is the only way that healing can begin. Regardless of what we do Jesus loves each and every one of us. If we are to follow in his footsteps we must do the same.
Have a peaceful week,
Mare
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