Signs of Life

With the wind chill hovering around zero, I am on a walk.  This is what projects like this force me to do: dumb things for the sake of art.  I was determined not to be caught inside at 8:18.

The neighborhood seems deserted.  Winter here is the great Disconnector.  It erects invisible walls of cold between the houses.  It discourages all but the most desperate (read: dog walkers) to venture forth.  There are no neighbors bent over ripening tomatoes or swathed in the smoke of grilling burgers.  It’s as if we had parting ceremony on Black Friday where we all bid each other a fond farewell until spring.

I see a few signs of life, however.  In the distance is a stalwart dog walker.  The sun catches the venting of a furnace from a chimney.  The brilliant vapor writhes in the shock of the cold.  And in the driveway of my neighbor, a snowman has been erected, with the incongruous adornment of seashell buttons.

I have met this neighbor, once.  We conversed over the hedge in late summer.  He is a visiting professor of Spanish, here with his family.  Friendly.  Alison and I made a mental note to have them over for dinner.  This snowman reminds me that there is indeed a family in the house over the hedge.  One I should connect with.

A person in a crowd once asked Jesus: Who is my neighbor?

I should be asking the same question.

Thank you, Father, for this reminder of the people who live all around me.  I ask your blessing to be on David and his family.  Help them to get connected in this daunting place to be transplanted.  Let our home provide welcome warmth.