Mother Teresa said it best, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” Far too often on drives around my town, it’s not the flowering Japanese Magnolias or the views of the sun setting over the river that capture my attention.
It is the faces of my neighbors, the people who share my town, such as the woman who sits on the sidewalk or the man talking to no one, or maybe everyone. Her clothes are often the same as yesterday, and her smile is kind. He has become a regular part of my day, whether seen walking up Cherry Street or down Washington Street. He is almost always there, and I find myself looking for him when he is not. I can’t help wondering who she belongs to, and I want to know her story.
These are the neighbors I think of most, and they live in every city where I have lived, almost every town that this column reaches. Oh, I have other neighbors. There is Andrew who helps make the city beautiful, Sam across the street who always comes and goes with a friendly wave, and Joyce who lives in the lovely cottage around the corner. The difference is they are not homeless.
A few days ago I helped Joyce serve chili, Mexican cornbread, and caramel cake to some neighbors less fortunate than we are, but it was I who got fed. I met a gentleman who talked about winters in Rhode Island, and I went to bed knowing one little girl had a second helping of cake in her tummy that night, thanks to Joyce’s kindness.
“Love begins by taking care of the closest ones, the ones at home.” Mother Teresa got it right again. She knew that home must extend beyond our own kitchens, living rooms and porches. Let us all look beyond the circumstances, farther still beyond the soiled clothing and hardened exterior, and into hearts that beat just like our own. There is no righteous indignation here. I need this lesson as much as anyone needs it.
I recently saw a movie starring the incomparable Maggie Smith who played a homeless woman living in her van. Once a young, vibrant pianist on the verge of a virtuoso career, her character is now an elderly woman with one neighbor who decides to be her only friend in the world. In a powerful scene, the neighbor brings her a bouquet of flowers, and when she seems a bit ungrateful, she reminds him that she has received far greater flowers than these in her lifetime, a possibility he had never even considered.
It is a reminder to me that stories run deep into every soul, and those who travel displaced amongst us now were not always so. We should all remember to be kind to those neighbors. You will find me trying harder. After all, don’t we belong to each other?
Email reaches former Columbus resident David Creel at [email protected].
The Dispatch Editorial Board is made up of publisher Peter Imes, columnist Slim Smith, managing editor Zack Plair and senior newsroom staff.
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