Welcome, Neighbor


Back when I was in my early thirties, we moved into a home, nestled in a group of well-established neighbors. It was one of those—“everyone knows everyone”—neighborhoods.  

I’d just begun to unpack our belongings when there was a knock on the front door. It was Charlane—the unofficial neighborhood hostess.

 

She seemed to be about my mother’s age, with short, curly gray hair and a winning smile. Holding a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies, she only stayed a few minutes—but not before offering any help we might need. 

 

Later in the afternoon, she brought a casserole, in case we were too tired to cook. She’d just won me over.

 

Within a few weeks, Charlane hosted a neighborhood gathering—just coffee, conversation, and my first bite of her legendary Texas sheet cake—rich, chocolate frosted brownies. I’m sure many of the neighbors came not to just meet us, but they knew this treat awaited. 

 

Charlane swept up our daughter into all the plans she had for her same-aged granddaughter—from picnics to lemonade stands on the nearby golf course.  A neighborhood was where your friends lived. She made sure of it.

 


Then my mom got breast cancer. Charlane would send me cheerful cards. She’d bring bouquets of flowers for me to give Mom on my frequent visits. When Mom passed, Charlane showed me what silent caring looked like, inviting me to sit in the shade of her beautiful, trellised garden. We sipped iced tea. The beauty of the flowers, the warmth of the sun, and her comforting presence were exactly what I needed.

 

A few years later we decided to move 300 miles to Mom’s old cabin. Charlane planned a neighborhood farewell with the same folks who’d welcomed us. On our final evening she brought a casserole and another plate of chocolate chip cookies. We hugged. I’d miss this beautiful, big-hearted woman.

 

She also brought a box with a plant from her gorgeous flower garden. “Plant these and they’ll keep spreading. They’re hearty and live through anything.” We both knew she meant the hard things in life too.

 

Then I started receiving cards in the mail. She’d tell me about our old neighborhood and the happenings in town. I’d write back with our news.

 

Her flower transplants did well that first spring. In one of her cards, Charlane told me to divide them and keep planting them in new places. I did.

 


Early the next year, she wrote that she had cancer. Not Charlane! I wrote back immediately. It was then that I started sending uplifting cards like she once sent me. The following spring, just as her plants were starting to bloom, she lost her battle. The beautiful flowers seemed to say, “I’ll remind you of her.”

 

It’s been over 25 years, and Charlene’s flowers remind me every spring that her spirit is very much alive. Her life’s mission may have been completed here, but she gave me an excellent example on how to love your neighbor well.


Popular posts from this blog

Dreaming the Dream

Image
Dreaming big dreams about the future is easy for kids. The only thing standing in the way is time.  Kid’s dreams are not about skills, or opportunities, or even practicality. Those things come much later.  My grandson hopes to be professional soccer player when he grows up. This week, a small piece of his dream came true when his Boys and Girls Club was invited to participate in pre-game activities with the Seattle Sounders Football Club.  He got to suit up in a real jersey and walk on the field with a real pro player. Imagine a young soccer player looking up to who he hopes to be one day. If you haven’t taken the time to talk to a child about their future dreams—you should.  They believe. As we get older we sometimes forget that dreams fuel our hopes—and that's something we all need. So, do you still dream? Or have you left those childhood thoughts behind?  S pending time with children will  inspire you to believe agai
Read more

Wild or Tame? Which One Are You?

Image
Finally! Research that explains why I act the way I do. Columbia University’s Motivational Science Center studied people’s activities and what brought them the most happiness. Even more telling were how those activities changed as they aged. Twenty-somethings tend to equate happiness with high-energy activities. Words like excited and ecstatic are usually attached to spontaneous things—even risky things—and living life full throttle.  Researchers labeled this Promotion Motivation —the urge to take chances, including career moves that may not work out. Happiness comes from happenings—the more happenings, the more happiness. By age forty, adults associate happiness with things running smoothly at work and home. It’s also about feeling secure in relationships. Keeping healthy matters more too. This behavior is called Prevention Motivation —and people are more concerned with preserving and maintaining the things they value. It appears that time ofte
Read more

The Quiet Dad

Image
After my granddaughter’s gymnastics, she’d always ask to go to the park next door—even in the winter. When you’re a high energy child, cold is relative. Our routine seemed to overlap with a dad and his son. I’d watch them as I watched my granddaughter go through her favorite activities—crossbar, swings, spinner, and the curly slide.  But the dad was not doing the same. He’d go hand-in-hand with his boy—pointing to trees, clouds, and the texture of the grass. I could see they were in a different place—one of sights, smells, and feels.   His son didn’t speak, so the father spoke into the silence around them. Since it was winter, the park was quiet—just the four of us—an energetic girl, and a boy who experienced the park in a way I never had.   We were at the same place, but in different worlds.    I saw a father’s love for his son expressed in quiet words of exploration. Never once did his son use the swing or try the crossbars. His world was spent touching tree bark and looking a
Read more