Who is My Neighbor?

Sep 2010 Issue

By Steph McMillan
I’m not sure what prompted my moment of complete disclosure. I’m not a blatant liar by nature, but I will admit that usually when the missionaries ask if there are any neighbors they can meet, I usually just shrug and change the subject. But on this particular Monday night, I suddenly found myself saying, “Actually, we’ve lived in this house for six months and we’ve never met our neighbors.”

After it came out of my mouth, I realized just how pitiful it sounded.
“Seriously?” I thought, “I’ve never done more than wave at the people who live literally 15 feet from my front door? What is my problem?”

So, when these two nineteen-year-old young men issued a challenge to our family it was something of a welcome one, “Before we come back next month, will you meet your neighbors?”

Of course we said yes. We felt confident about this challenge. And we could check off a missionary experience for the month.

Then suddenly, one week had passed. We were busy. We had church meetings, appointments, school, date night.

Two weeks had passed. Sports practices, more church meetings, sewing projects, a cold.

Three weeks had passed. Stuff. Busy. Life.

Four weeks. Excuses.

Suddenly, it was Sunday afternoon. The missionaries were scheduled for their monthly visit on Monday night and the weight of a commitment pressed hard upon me. We couldn’t face those missionaries who tracted door to door with the excuse that we just didn’t have the time to walk fifteen feet and say, “hi, I’m your neighbor.” So I whipped up a batch of cookies. I told my family I was going, invited them to join me, and off we went.

I don’t know what I expected. I’m not sure what my fears were. But I will tell you what we found.

The first house we stopped at was that of our front door neighbors. I can almost reach out and touch both our houses standing in the middle. We went to their door armed with our cookies. Their English was not perfect, but they invited us in. We sat on their couch and talked for nearly 15 minutes. They were friendly and welcoming, glad that we had taken the initiative to say hello.

The second house brought a nice conversation at the door. We spoke with the gentleman of the house as his wife was out. He was actually the pastor of another congregation in town. We met his daughter and left the cookies.

Though no one answered the third door, we were undeterred and pressed on.

The fourth door? We introduced ourselves and were warmly invited in with the comment, “We’ve lived here for two years and no one has ever stopped by for a visit.” We were treated to a proud tour of their back yard projects. We got to talk with their sweet wheelchair-bound mother, and met their two turtles. We were there for nearly an hour. A few weeks later they brought us a plate of brownies in return.

I don’t know what we expected, but I know what we got. Kind people.
People who smile and wave. People who help you unload something heavy from the truck. People you converse with at the mailbox. People who stop by when they see you in the garage. People to invite over for dinner. Perhaps you could call those people “neighbors.”

None of these neighbors have been baptized. They haven’t attended any of the church events to which we have invited them. Yet this was one of the most instructive missionary experiences of my life. It taught me that we have to overcome the adversary who fills our head with lies, misinformation, and fear.

During Christ’s mortal ministry, he admonished “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself.” When questioned as to the nature of his neighbor, Christ responds with the parable of the Good Samaritan.
Satan would have us forget these teachings from the Savior. He would convince us that our “neighbors” are the people in our wards, people in our families, people we already know and love. And while we can, and certainly should, love and serve these people, we must also move beyond this group to include our geographical neighbors as well. Only when we realize this and act upon that realization will we be following the Savior’s counsel to love our neighbor.

I am grateful to two missionaries who listened to the spirit, extended a challenge, and helped me see my neighbors for who they are. Maybe one of these days my neighbors will thank those missionaries as well.