I’m sitting by the big front window in our living room. I just delivered some homemade scones to the neighbors for a little “Happy New Year” gesture. I realized that sitting inside, watching the neighbor across the street light fireworks for an audience of six eager kids, there really isn’t a better place to be right now.
Most people on my block are hanging out with family or friends doing what’s important – connecting.
I finally met the new neighbors, having felt lame for not stopping by sooner. The gal and her fiance moved in back in September. I kept meaning to stop by, say hi, but it just never “worked” (wasn’t convenient, they weren’t home, etc.). Still, finally touching base with them filled a void that existed. Those people live on my block, and I didn’t know them, hadn’t welcomed them, hadn’t expressed the “if you need anything just ask” sentiment. Because isn’t that what a neighborhood is all about? We’ll watch your back, we care about you, your life, your health, your troubles, your successes.
This is connection; fellowship to other human beings that is taken for granted. I am thankful that I made those scones, delivered them, communed, “touched Indians” as Dennis Miller likes to say. I told people in a small way that I care.
Life is busy. We tend to cocoon and keep to ourselves, but what are we without connection? Really, is there a better testament to connection than knowing that if I’m in trouble or need help I can call my neighbors, my extended family. It makes life just a little less big and overwhelming, and that’s a good thing.