for Judy

I want you to be concerned about your next-door neighbor. Do you know your next-door neighbor?  –Mother Teresa

In the last half of my life, I’ve often heard people lament the fact that they don’t really know their neighbors any more. The folks who move into our neighborhoods may live next to us, they say, but that’s about the extent of it. We know very little about their lives except for the types of cars they drive and the number of FedEx deliveries they average a week. For many, neighborhoods are now defined more by geographical proximity than by relationships.

I’m blessed to live close to neighbors with whom I have genuine relationships. I know that I’m one of the lucky ones and understand that this is no small thing. I could answer Mother Teresa honestly: yes, I know my next-door neighbors.

Over the twenty years that I’ve lived here in rural Iowa, my friendship with my neighbor Judy grew. In the early years, our conversations were held in the yard, often with Judy seated atop her John Deere mower. She’d see me walking down the lane towards the mailbox, kill the engine, and we’d catch up on family and life events. She asked about my work at school, about each of my children, and about my family in Nebraska. She asked the kinds of questions that always made me feel truly understood and appreciated. I came away from our conversations feeling as though all was right with the world–or at least all was right in our little corner of the world on 114th Lane.

When I began to write blog posts, Judy quickly became one of my most devoted readers, responding to each piece mere minutes after I’d posted it. I can’t begin to measure my gratitude for her unfailing readership. As I was sitting in my little writing cabin drafting a new post, I’d imagine how she’d soon be sitting in her brown recliner reading my words, sharing a sacred literary connection with me, her neighbor and friend.

In his book, The Good Neighbor: The Life and Works of Fred Rogers, Maxwell King writes:

In everything he wrote, in all the programming he produced, in the life of caring, kindness, and modesty that he led, he set a very clear example. His legacy lives in the concept of a caring neighborhood where people watch out for one another, no matter where they come from or what they look like.

Recently, Judy died. I’ve had days to grieve her passing and to think about the rich legacy she leaves. Certainly, a vital part of this legacy is that she, like Fred Rogers, created a caring neighborhood where people watch out for one another. When the entire world was cloistering during the height of Covid, I lived in a small, protected neighborhood where I could pedal my boat on the pond, watch the birds from my porch, and talk with Judy and my other neighbors across their yards. For months, our world was small and intimate, founded–in large part–upon Judy’s loving care.

Another part of Judy’s legacy is that she leaves behind her son, Kevin, who has lived with and cared for her the past years. He, too, has become an integral part of our neighborhood, a part of a family who looks out for one another. Like his mom, Kevin often stops to talk from the seat of his mower, a neighborhood tradition that will undoubtedly live on.

Author Rabbi Harold Kushner writes:

The happiest people I know are people who don’t even think about being happy. They just think about being good neighbors, good people. And then happiness sort of sneaks in the back window while they are busy doing good.

Such simple advice: just think about being good neighbors, good people. And yet, it goes without saying that if all–even most–of us would follow it, the world would be a considerably better and happier place. As Kushner advocates, happiness will sneak in the back window as you live neighborly lives.

And who is our neighbor? We claim those who live near us as neighbors, but when an expert of the law asked Jesus this question, Jesus responded with the parable of the Good Samaritan. Being a good neighbor stretches far beyond the geographical and relational boundaries of traditional neighborhoods. A good neighbor, Jesus exhorts, shows mercy to those in need, even–and especially–those whom we don’t know and may not necessarily care to know. Clearly, the world would be a bettter, happier place if we walked humbly and showed mercy to all the Samaritans in our lives.

I will miss Judy. Neighbor, friend and mentor, she is the kind of woman I’d like to be when I grow up. Our neighborhood has been blessed by her presence; we will continue to be blessed by her legacy.