The Neighbourhood

We were so blessed with our neighbours in Thunder Bay.

When we first moved to Heron St, people were like "eep! Not that neighbourhood!"  We were warned of violence, hookers, theft.

Guys.

It was an amazing neighbourhood.
We had neighbours all around us who loved us, cared for us, blessed us, watched out for us, baked for us, and spent time with us.

There were front porch conversations and back-fence plate-passings.  There were secret snow-shovelings and help with putting out the garbage.  One neighbour saw us struggling with a dying battery in our truck, and he brought us an amazing battery (it's still going strong in our lumbering beast of a truck).  There were special treats for our kids at birthdays, Hallowe'en, Christmas, Easter. I didn't make my own cakes the entire time we lived there, thanks to our sweet Ywetta. No, I can't imagine ever having neighbours as lovely as the ones we had on Heron St.

I don't think you can know a neighbourhood until you live in it.  What seemed like a rough part of town was actually a warm and loving street full of kindness and care.  And sometimes a quiet, upscale neighbourhood can be the coldest place in the world.

So when I read the very brief Christmas story in John's gospel in the Message, I just loved it so much.

The Word became flesh and blood, 

and moved into the neighbourhood. 

We saw the glory with our own eyes, 

the one-of-a-kind glory, 

like Father, like Son, 

generous inside and out, 

true from start to finish. 

(John chapter 1, verse 14)

Jesus moved into the neighbourhood.  He moved right in. Right here.  Got to know us. Became one of us.  Knows our hurts, our struggles, our lives from the inside out.

God sent His own lovely Son into our neighbourhood.
To know us.
To show us love.
To teach us wisdom.
To forgive our sins.
And to reveal God to us, up close and personal.

Merry Christmas, dear friends - to you and your neighbours :).
xo.