It had not occurred to me that the fences in view on our back porch were so much in the style of colonial America. Such fences always impressed me when visiting Williamsburg in Virginia. The very wealthy might have wrought iron or stone, but the common fence 250 years ago was waist high and wooden, sometimes painted but often not, just like ours. There is a warmth to that, as I look out over the fences here among neighbors, some of whom have lived with us by us over 30 years. Whenever we think of moving, we usually say, “But the neighbors. . .” And we set that thought aside one more time.
The fences here are just enough to denote ownership and responsibility, but do not scream “Get out!” We’ve all jumped or climbed over our fences to get a stray ball, or have freely entered the through the gate as needed. No need to ask. Our fences simply say, “I’m responsible to make my part nice not only for me but you, and you have your part. But none of us can take care of all of it.” I like that arrangement.
I get a lot of joy out of these backyards circled by fences. For one thing, some of them are quite attractive. And, most provide a kind of daily entertainment. As I talk, the young adult son of our Eritrean neighbors has just come out with their dog who is circling the yard at speeds no human can approximate. Interesting. That dog has always been the fastest on the block. All of us know him.
We’ll soon have 12 grandchildren here. Along with our parent children, and my wife and I, we’ll make 20 of us. They are coming for our 50th wedding anniversary. The neighbors will have quite a show coming up. I’m glad to share it.
Another neighbor just asked if we could go out to eat to talk about whether he should retire or not. We had a longer visit with a lady neighbor two days ago whose conversion to Christ was strongly connected to Pam’s long talks together. Some of us watched a tornado go over the top of our houses (don’t try this). One neighbor got a snowblower and proceeds from one house to the next clearing our drives. Recently a neighbor provided several pieces of furniture for one of our kid’s rental home. It goes on. We love neighbors; we need them and they need us.
Once we had a desire to give a fairly large sum of money to a neighbor once to help in a slow time. We expected nothing back. But a few weeks later, he returned a gift that size with additional amount because things had turned around. It was a sweet exchange of sincere love for both of us. He insisted that I take it, and I had felt the same toward him.
I like fences that say, “Don’t take this too seriously.” Let love keep the fences low and easy to visit over. Life is too short to live in solitary confinement.