I woke at 5:30am to find the clock on the stove flashing. Sixteen hours of heavy snow caused us to lose power for a few minutes. Still asleep, no one in my house noticed it. The same was not true for the people who live at the end our street – nor for the people who live the next street over – the ones whose back yards share a border with neighboring homes. Marion Road, Highland Court and Avenue, and High Street (pictured above) still have people without power – a half a day outage so far.

My neighbors and I had to shovel out our driveways and walks, but we’ve been able to cook our meals, take hot showers, and keep our houses warm – the last few hours of snowfall nothing more than a pretty happening outside the window, the scene enjoyed with a hot cup of coffee. None of us on this quiet street are worried about medical equipment dying, or phone service to call an ambulance no longer working. Had a neighbor not told me about the local outages, I doubt I’d have noticed – at least not until the sun sets and lights remain off.

It’s that lack of awareness that concerns me. It’s so easy to assume that everyone around me is facing the same circumstances as I am. If I don’t keep my eyes open, if I don’t bother to look closely, I’m going to miss what’s going on in the lives of my neighbors. That would be tragic.

They lived in the house next door when we first moved to Wareham – a family of four plus a hound. He worked in heating and cooling, she as a pharmacy assistant. We were the only residents with young children on a street where most of the original owners of the 1950’s homes still remained.

One of the crankier neighbors lived right across the street from them, an eighty-something widow who took every opportunity to yell at their middle school son and his friends. She complained about the parents to her neighbors. If they had guests, she complained about cars parked in front of her house. The family could do no right in her eyes.

Most people would to their best to ignore such a woman, or even return insult for insult. Not these people. Whenever there was a power outage, they would go check on her. He made sure her fireplace worked and that furnace came back on; she made sure there was enough food and water in the house.

Jesus tells such a parable – when the one who has no reason to help is the one to save a life. It took me longer than it should have to notice the Gospel playing out on my street, just past the hedge…

If you hopped the fence and pushed your way through the thorny growth on the other side, you’d be in the parking lot of the town library. If you went through the front doors and looked to the left, you’d see the main desk. I’ve seen kind acts from each of the people who work behind that desk. Sometimes, it’s listening to someone who has no one else to talk with; occasionally, it’s coughing up a couple of quarters so someone could use the photocopier; many times, it’s just helping people find something interesting to read – or a quite place to do so.

That library is a sanctuary of sorts – a quiet, calm, warm place for anyone who needs it. No one has to buy anything to enter or to linger. Even those who don’t live next to the library are neighbors in the best sense – welcome to drop in for no reason in particular…

It’s the new year that follows a stressful one. The endings and beginnings always bring up questions for me. Since I’ve lived on four different streets in two states and four houses over the last three years, where I am in a geographical sense has been on my mind. And with that, the people that have had streets and property lines in common. So my question this January 1st, 2026: Who Is My Neighbor?

I hope you will explore this question with me – neighbors in conversation, if not location…

Some look at birthdays and the turning of one calendar year into another as significant – bringing new realities and possibilities into being, taking stock of what was to begin the journey into what will be. Others see such days as much like any other – just randomly assigned holidays with no intrinsic value beyond what our imaginations or superstitions assign to them. In my almost fifty-five years on this planet, I’ve gone back and forth between the two. The older I get, the more I believe it doesn’t really matter which side I land on: what matters is the reasoning behind it and the actions that spring out of it.

Birthdays and New Year as significant: These days encourage reflection and can serve to spur me into action because I can’t hide in my daily unthinking routine. And there’s usually cake…

Birthdays and New Year as not intrinsically more significant than any other day: Every day is a new beginning, an opportunity to reflect on life and see in my daily activities the grace of God and the miracle of this life.

Whatever side I land on in 2019, I hope to waken each day with the sure knowledge and deep appreciation for this fragile, imperfect, holy life I’ve been given; I hope to waken each day with the sure knowledge and deep appreciation for the fragile, imperfect, holy lives of everyone I encounter. May I find enough love and wisdom to live this out in 2019.

Happy New Year! Amen.