Once upon a time, COVID ruled the world. Like the White Witch subduing Narnia with eternal winter, COVID subjected us all to social distancing, mask requirements, quarantine, and more.
So when Adam and I first moved into our second story apartment in early 2020, a friendly meet & greet with the neighbors wasn’t high on anyone’s priority list... including ours. Sure, we said “hi” in passing and looked out for one another’s piles of Amazon packages, but that was about it.
In October, our downstairs neighbors moved out and a new couple moved in. We’ll call them D & B. They looked about our age, and we kept bumping into them - on the stairs, in the parking lot, at the grocery store - and we did what we did before: waved, said “hi,” polite conversation, etc.
We felt like we were making an effort to be friendly, but also felt like it wasn’t reciprocated. They seemed to ignore our greetings and avoid eye contact. Maybe they didn’t like us? Maybe we made too much noise/annoyed them? Just saying “hi” felt awkward.
A year went by. One day, I was baking monster cookies (i.e. avoiding mounds of homework) and a thought popped into my head, “Why not take some to the neighbors?” I immediately felt incredibly embarrassed. Cookies, now? After all this time? Isn’t it a little weird to just “show up” at 2pm? They don’t even know us! What if they have peanut allergies!?!
For some reason, I listened to that persistent little voice, piled a few cookies on a paper plate, went downstairs and knocked on the neighbors’ door. My heart beat nervously. I knew they were home, so I waited. 10 seconds passed. I was sure they weren’t going to answer.
Then the door opened and there stood D. He seemed surprised... and a bit confused. I introduced myself (“oh hi, you know who I am, but not really”), and was about to bolt when B came around the corner. She introduced both of them, received the cookies, and that was that. Back upstairs, I thought, wow, maybe this is a turning point!
Well... it wasn’t. Not really, anyway. We kept seeing them, kept saying hi. A few months later, I took over more cookies... and life moseyed on.
More time passed. December arrived. And once again, baking cookies (a frequent occurrence), I heard that little voice. So, I arranged cookies on a plate and wrote “Merry Christmas” on a post-it note and taped it to the cling wrap. Nothing fancy.
Downstairs, I knocked. B answered. For the first time, she smiled when she opened the door. She saw the cookies and eagerly asked what kind they were. I explained. Then we wished each other a Merry Christmas, and I left.
The next day, cleaning up and wrapping presents, I heard a knock at the door. Amazon? No... Maybe maintenance? Weird... I looked out the peephole. It was D & B. Confused, I opened the door.
B handed me a card and the cutest little knitted Grinch ornament I’ve ever seen. She asked if we had a tree, and I couldn’t resist showing them our Charlie Brown fake tree, leaning at a 25-30 degree angle against an old guitar stand, weighted down with a tool box and snow chains, because original stand was missing. We all laughed at its haphazard-ness.
It’s amazing what happens when people enter your home. Within 5 minutes, we learned where each other worked, shared our holiday plans, exchanged phone numbers, and made plans to have dinner together.
As I shut the door behind them, I was hit with equal amounts of joy and grief. Joy, because we’re finally getting to know our neighbors - and grief, because we move in less than 2 weeks. Joy, because the small moments did make a difference - grief, because we never really prayed for bigger opportunities. Joy, because (surprise) they didn’t hate us after all - grief, because we didn’t step outside of our bubble of self-doubt and “self-preservation” to figure that out sooner.
Then, in the middle of all this emotion, came a moment of piercing clarity - given this outcome, what might I have done differently from the beginning? I thought about ways that we could have pursued a relationship with our neighbors. I reflected on past interactions where I assumed the worst instead of the best.
I also realized that I had allowed myself to disguise my lack of love as “self-preservation.” Our culture allows us to label unreciprocated relationships as “toxic” and “draining,” but here’s the thing: when the Word became flesh, He chose the most imbalanced, unreciprocated relationship of all. Perfect Creator came to sinful creation - why? - to demonstrate a new kind of love. A love with no strings attached. A love that cannot be exhausted. A love that never runs out, because its very Source is eternal. How could any recipient of that kind of love not be overflowing with generous love towards others? Withholding such a gift is not self-preservation, but selfishness.
So... I hung the ornament on the tree. And like the Grinch, my small heart grew three sizes that day.
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We haven't left for the field yet, but I think it's safe to say that even now God is teaching us important lessons about His love that we will carry with us for the rest of our lives.
Cheers to growing in Him,
Raina