Our Good Neighbor

This morning I had two children sobbing in the backseat as we pulled away from our home.  The moving truck was in front of our dear neighbor's home, and the reality had set in that Mr. Mike was moving.  
As I tucked the children in tonight, my eldest prayed, "God, please help Mr. Mike sleep well in his new home.  He was the best neighbor ever..."
It made me ponder: What makes a "best neighbor"?  And why is it so difficult to get to know our neighbors?
For us, Mr. Mike has been the one who cheered at Little League games, knocked on our door with Easter baskets, Halloween candy and Christmas stockings for the children, thrown a ball with our son, eaten at our table, dropped us off at 4:30am at the airport, and taken the time to ask questions and care.  For him, I think, our children were sometimes the highlight of his day, and we were able to be there for him when he took a tumble off his ladder and ended up in the back of an ambulance.  After a decade of living across the street, we know his story, and he knows ours.  It didn't happen overnight, but we chiseled back the layers and discovered the journeys that had both brought us to this street.
However, on the contrary, our other neighbor who also has lived across the street for the past decade, well, her name is known but her garage door closes behind the car before the engine turns off.  Thus, we have failed to have one meaningful conversation in over 3,800 days we've been neighbors.  I don't know her story; she doesn't know mine.  
In my opinion, the pace and culture of our society at times does not nurture the reliance and interdependence with neighbors that may have been the case decades and centennials before, or that may organically occur in other cultures around the world.   When we lived in another culture, neighbors rely on each other for their very sustenance.  They are constantly sharing milk, sugar, flour, conversations, joys, tears and laughter.  Yet, here we are constantly on the move from one thing to the next, and rarely take those precious minutes in our own geographical territory to care for those around us.  I get it (because I'm guilty of it), but I think we had something special with Mr. Mike that on a grander scale should be more of a priority than a rarity.  
I think all of us long for neighbor friendships, for that smiling face and wave when we get near our driveway, and we were blessed enough to have one in Mr. Mike.  He said he'll stop by on Monday; my children will be waiting!

Strobe Lights and Disappearing Faces...What Is "It"?

I was standing at the checkout line today at Costco, and the cashier's face disappeared, flashes of light appeared all around me, and then words on the walls were gone.  I knew what was happening, so no panic set in this time, but it took me back to the first time my vision started disappearing...
It was May 15th of last year, and our plane had just touched down on the island of Haiti.  I stepped off the plane to the overwhelming humidity and airport chaos coupled with already being sick. I looked at one of my teammates and I could only see half of her face.  I was in a foreign land and now my vision was gone.  It was as if strobe lights had been turned on in my brain and a party was started, but I wasn't invited, nor did I want to be invited.  Panic.  Fear.  A desire to turn around and hop on the next flight going back to Miami.  "It", for I knew not what "it" was called at this point, lasted 30 minutes.  "It" felt like an eternity, especially as thoughts swam through the current of my mind without knowing what was going on or how long "it" would last.  
About a month later another one showed up, followed by a couple more, and then a friend sent me some pictures of what it looks like to have an ocular migraine.  Aha, that's it, I thought.  I researched, pursued advice from health practitioners, and all of my symptoms lined up.  The "it" was ocular migraines.  Sometimes when you can identify the unknown, fear subsides and peace can restore its rightful place in our minds. 
It had been since July 10th, exactly 11 months ago, when I had last experienced this crazy thing my brain (and as I've been comforted to learn many others too) does.  So when today happened, there was frustration, but no panic and there was no fear.  I finished checking out, walked to the car, loaded up my belongings, and laid my seat back for 30 minutes until "it" passed.  
However, it's in these moments when you realize how fragile life is and how amazingly we've been created.  You have no choice but to slow down, and in a crazy, unpredictable way I become grateful for the thing that had at one point scared me to the core.