There are so many things that evoke a curious passion from within me. I especially appreciate things that have a history, meaningful, and purposeful use. These would include colonial homes with random-width wooden floors, rickety rocking chairs, and even moss-covered brick paths traveled by many, for ages.

I often wonder what the walls in historic homes have heard. The stories, the day-to-day endeavors, the complexities of life from back then, and hopefully, the lively laughter of chortling children would be so enlightening. I wonder if mommas nursing their babies, older women knitting socks, or grandpas reading to their grandbabies sat in those rocking chairs. I am most curious about the brick paths. Who walked to and from where they led? Were there gates that swung open to welcome visitors, or shut to keep unwelcome persons out?

Were people cordial, cautious, or distant? Did they choose to remain on their side of the fence that separated their property from their neighbors? Did they exchange freshly baked cookies and pies, lend one another eggs, flour or sugar, chat about life’s joys and sorrows? Perhaps they were the worst of enemies and avoided one another at all costs.

We all have neighbors near and far. But by far, my neighbors have been my most compelling teachers. Each has taught me so many life-lessons. I have gained wisdom from both friendly folks and those who’ve become foes. They have shown me various facets of life and even death. They have made me wiser, more patient, and reminded me that I would continue to learn until I draw my last breath.

What have your neighbors taught you? Have they lived similar lives to yours? Are their children respectful and kind? Are they next-door friends who would hold your heart when life is unfair? Do they hum a wordless tune that your soul knows, too?

Let me tell you about our neighbors and what they have imparted. My first neighbor was young and pregnant when we met. After she had her baby, we bonded. I was in nursing school, and she was a teenaged mother- soon becoming a doting parent and cherished friend. Thirty-seven years later, we remain close friends. She taught me age doesn’t always impact or limit the capacity of our hearts to love unequivocally. She endured losses, welcomed two more babies, then assumed the role of the sole caretaker for her unfaithful ex-husband throughout his suffering and eventual death. Recently she married her soulmate. She genuinely embraces all her life with such grace and goodness. Her heart has never hardened.

Yet other neighbors were intrusive and disrespectful. They taught me that not everyone we meet celebrates our souls. We need to guard our boundaries and recognize when they are disrespected. Worse, some people are denigrating and without any boundaries whatsoever. My abuse, and maybe yours, offer insightfulness and cognizance when our values are invalidated, and our hearts are hurt. This life-lesson is that it’s not our responsibility to bear a burden we don’t own. We must, however, claim full non-negotiable ownership of our personhood.

One additional neighbor is essential in this post. She and I never had a gate or brick path; we entered one another’s lives without ever leaving. Our lives were like a clothesline taught between two poles. We shared saw another’s dirty laundry, and together we neatly folded our successfully revised life-plans. Our laundry baskets were so full! On her quaint front porch, we cried together but mostly laughed. She viewed daily life no differently than she did holidays; generously give the gifts of grace and seek mercy, but celebrate it all every single day. She passed no judgment but took every opportunity to learn from everyone she met. She loved her life and her family with such enthusiasm. And when she faced her impending, untimely death, she asked me to drink margaritas in her honor. She told me I would be okay because all we shared became wisdom imprinted within our very core. More than anything, she praised my tenacity and encouraged me to be genuine, while acknowledging that my abuse and my healing have made me ”brilliant wreckage.” I love that!

More than anything, she taught me that we all have both a journey and a story. The day she died, part of my story died, too. But the survivor in me was inspired to write a new story, one that tells how friends can inspire us to better ourselves and become the difference many seek. Because I now share her impact on my life with you, she dwells within your life, too. You never met her, but now you know her lesson of sharing your heart with those who respect, not ransack your essence.

Who are your neighbors? I hope they will come to be part of your story and lead you to embrace all of life’s lessons- both good and bad. Above all, make a difference; that is your gift. But please- don’t wait for Christmas to present it.