Father Kelly isn't living here--and we got mixed word on where he is currently. Some said in a nursing home, but the neighbors indicated that he had passed away. The yard, especially in the back, hadn't been tended to in a while and was in need of some serious cutting back and clearing out.
We got to work, focused on our objectives of raking, chopping, digging, carrying, cutting. I figured hard labor would be the pay-off: knowing we did something for a community that needed some help.
But, the gems of the afternoon were two conversations I had with women from the neighborhood.
The first woman told me about Father Kelly. He was a retired Monsignor, he had also served as a priest in World War II with the Army Air Force and had traveled extensively. He was very proud of war veterans and showed anyone who was interested his scrapbook which included signatures from heroes like Westmoreland. If he met a person who had served his/her country, he would have them sign alongside such Greats.
He was a small man, full of kindness, and readily welcomed into every home on the block. His significance, it turned out, was etched onto the lives and hearts of those around him.
The second woman talked more about the street in general. Of the 10-20 houses on the block, approximately 7 were uninhabited. This woman explained that in an effort to make their neighborhood safe for their children and grandchildren to play, the neighbors worked together to keep the abandoned homes somewhat presentable.
Most people left on the street are elderly and struggle to attend to their own homes, but they watch out for the houses left vacant too. She pointed out that her son, a man in the Police Reserves, ends up mowing 5-6 yards each time he pulls out his lawnmower. Sick of thieves and vandals, many of the neighbors have padlocked the empty homes on their own and tried their best to keep a decent front on the crumbling buildings.
The knowledge and insight I gained from these little chats really has blossomed in my mind. The concept of 'safety', I learned, is relative. In my 'safe' suburban neighborhood, I know my neighbors by sight, but I don't interact with them. My sense of physical safety and security, albeit probably flawed, comes from my own efforts, or my own understanding of what to defend myself against. There aren't many clear and present dangers here. Families are out and about on bikes, people pull boats behind minivans down to the lakefront and spend the afternoon frolicking in the sunshine.
But, seeing the Community rooted in an 'unsafe' neighborhood where terms like "The Thieves" and "Abandoned Home" are said without any shock or fear, makes me long for something more. I might have increased physical safety, but what about the security of a community surrounding me--do I have that? Which is more important to me--protecting my stuff or embracing and being embraced by people around me? If I gave up some of my personal safety, would it compel me to rely on the relationships I have with others?
"Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life--fear of death, fear of judgement--is one not yet fully formed in love. We though, are going to love--love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. He loved us first." --1 John 4:18-19
