We have some neighbors from Pakistan who we met last summer on our family walks around the neighborhood. They're not actually even our neighbors. They live several streets over. But they have taken a liking to our family. I wrote a post after Halloween last year about how they sat on their porch waiting for us to come by with the kids in their costumes, and they were so nervous we wouldn't come. That was the last time we saw them. We haven't been walking as much this year for some reason, but the few times we've been out they haven't been.
Tonight we passed their house, and Big Sissy reminded us of their names like she always does when we pass their house. Because their names are unusual. And I always forget them. And she never forgets anything. We paused there, thought of them, and kept going. On our way back, however, there they were in the driveway--he in his wheelchair and her waving us down. They had been on their back deck, heard Little Buddy making baby noises as we passed, and they didn't want to miss us. She must have told us 15 times how they were so afraid we weren't coming any more and they wanted to give us something for Christmas but we never came (because we don't normally go for walks at Christmastime). She immediately went in and brought out chocolates and cookies for the kids. Our kids have never had so much sugar at one time. Ever. Especially right before bed. But it would have had to be really bad for me to say no to this woman. I wondered what it would be like to be childless, friendless, caring for a spouse in poor health--all in a strange country. I was saddened and humbled and challenged to be a better "neighbor" and friend to them.
I have to be honest, though. I feel a little like the dead mouse in John Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men," who was accidentally loved to death by a very large mentally handicapped man named Lennie. Or Big Sissy's fireflies, perhaps. I think I don't know what to do when people love me so intensely. Especially needy people.
I think I'm about to find out. This time we exchanged phone numbers so they can't lose us again. I'm praying that I can take a cue from them and love them well in exchange. So why do I feel like a dead mouse? God can revive even a dead mouse, right?
2 comments:
What a precious post. I remember one time that God gave me a needy friend (or, more accurately, a needy family to befriend). It was one of the most difficult periods of my life, yet one of the richest. It required time and patience that I rarely felt like I had. She has passed away now - having died too young, and I don't regret having given so much of myself to her during her hard times. I was made richer by having given.
BTW, you have the kind of sweet family that I would like to know if I were in a strange country, nursing an ill husband.
Excellent post, sis. I can relate, not with the neighbors from out of the country, but with neighbors we rarely see, yet I feel like God wants me to befriend them. Especially when I just found out 2 weeks ago that she was about to have her second child. So when I saw the husband the other day (and found out she'd just had the baby), I gave them my phone number. We'll see what happens, but somehow, it is sort of nerve racking when I know we are already so busy! I guess all we can do is be obedient, right?
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