Guest Blog: Jennifer

Six years ago my neighbor’s brother was killed by a drunk driver. Last December just before Christmas his mother died, at the age of 92. She had lived in the house for 50 years. Now my neighbor lives there by himself. He has one other sibling who lives in London and some family scattered in the suburbs of Chicago. When he first moved back into the house after his mother passed away, he was very quiet and would rarely speak to me. This past summer my son, who is two, and I would frequently take walks down the street. For some reason, every time my son saw this neighbor he would break out in a run and tackle the man’s leg and give him a big hug. Slowly I could see the walls around my neighbor begin to crumble. He became more talkative. He would wave if we passed each other driving. He always had a smile when he saw my son and me walking down the street.

Last Easter my son and I baked sugar cookies and frosted them, and put way too many sprinkles on them. We took some of the very sugary sugar cookies to our neighbor. He was speechless; he had tears in his eyes. He said thank you and went back in the house.

Every year for the holidays my family gather a very eclectic group of people for lunch. Some people are family, some employees with no family around, and some friends who have no where else to go. My parents have done this for as long as I can remember. As a child I have to say it was kind of irritating. I would end up sitting next to someone at the table I didn’t really know, or a friend of my parents who was ‘old’ and have to hold hands with them when we prayed for the meal. As an adult I am so thankful for the example my parents set for me. So this year before Thanksgiving, my son and I marched right over to the neighbor’s house and asked him what he was doing for Thanksgiving. He said he was going to be with his family in the suburbs, and then wanted to know why I was asking. I told him because I wanted to invite him to our house for Thanksgiving. He said thank you so much and that the invitation really meant a lot to him. I told him that is just what we do, and that I didn’t want him spending the holiday alone. He just kept saying thank you.

A week or so after Thanksgiving I was walking my niece down the street and the neighbor came out from his garage for a chat. He told me again how much the invitation for Thanksgiving meant to him and that he really appreciated being thought of. I told him that neighbors can be like family too and that he is welcome any time to our gatherings.

The following Monday I came home after work and my garbage cans had been brought in from the curb. I thought what a nice thing for someone to do for me and wondered who could have done it. Later that night, my mom called and told me she had driven by my house and seen the neighbor bringing the garbage cans in. We were both shocked and humbled. My invitation for Thanksgiving didn’t have any strings attached. I didn’t want anything back from this neighbor except my own peace of mind knowing he didn’t have to be alone. He decided to bless me and bring in my garbage cans. As a single mom, help with those kinds of things is a very big deal. In fact he will never really understand what that meant to me. And I will probably never really understand what my invitation meant to him.