On Monday evening, there was a near brawl in the street in front of my house. Several neighbors were in the road screaming at each other as cars full of people pulled up and got out to get involved. It culminated in someone almost backing over someone else's child, one lady threatening another with a knife, and a kid pointing his BB gun at a group of girls. I got to watch all of this unfold because they had blocked me into my driveway. So instead of making my way to Nehemiah's for my shift, I got to stand next to my car watching these people I only vaguely knew threaten each other, wondering at what point I needed to call the police. But as quickly as it began, it ended. Someone yelled some final words, mumbled about the fact that I would probably call the cops, and everyone dispersed.
Last night, some of those same ladies filled my dining room as we joked, laughed and got the chance to know one another. We shared a meal, swapped stories, and the two main instigators of the fight Monday night showed up together, not a single ounce of animosity remaining.
I'm learning a lot this year.
I don't want to make it seem like I am this grand martyr for living where I live. I moved there because a friend of mine had a house for rent, it was near the church, and I could (just barely) afford it. It's a very different neighborhood than what I'm used to, and I'm surrounded by a different demographic than I encounter in my everyday life. I work in a predominantly white area of town. The people that live out there are comfortably middle class and above. If people started screaming at each other in the middle of the road in Clear Creek, you best believe cops would be called.
Where I live, most of my neighbors are lower-income, many of them single-parent households. Some are on disability, some work all hours of the day. Some just moved to town, some have lived in Tuscaloosa all of their lives. And I'll just say it flat out - most of them are black.
Tuscaloosa has a long history of racial tension and flat out violence. It's shameful, it's wrong, and it's still something our town is dealing with on a daily basis. In an ideal world, that history and being immersed in it everyday wouldn't shade my personal views. I've lived my life with the intention of never making assumptions about someone based on their race, gender, class, sexual orientation...you get the picture. I intend for my views of people to be based on my direct interactions with them and their character. But we don't live in bubbles. Hearing racist remarks, seeing how people are treated differently is going to affect you.
I say all of this to say that when I moved into my house, I didn't know what the heck I was getting myself into. I didn't realize that I had let so many years surrounded by casual racism color my views. I was nervous when my neighbor was walking down the street late at night. I wasn't sure what to expect when I saw a car full of guys just idling outside my neighbor's house. And I reacted with serious terror when I had that red laser incident a few weeks back. Would I have reacted that way if it happened in my old house? Honestly, it's impossible to say, but I can venture a guess.
So instead of accepting that I had let society color my views in a racist manner, I decided to do something about it. Or rather, God decided to do something about it. See, I genuinely believe that God placed me where I am today. I spent so many months stressing about where I would live this year and then two weeks before I had to be out of the old house, this opportunity presented itself. When I didn't think I could afford it, God provided a way. And as I prepared to move, I could feel God calling me to reach out to my neighborhood. Not in a superficial way. In a way that pours out His love. Not as the little white girl that moved into the neighborhood, but as the woman of God who recognizes that everyone is called to be a part of His kingdom. It doesn't matter what color you are, how much money you make, how much time you spend walking up and down the street, or what you choose to spend your money on. We are all His children. And I think somewhere along the way it's really easy to forget that.
I'm sure a lot of my neighbors laugh at me. When I see any of them outside, I wave and greet them with a big grin. If I don't know them, it doesn't matter. I can either be afraid of the unknown or turn them into friends. I have to consistently, consciously choose the latter. In doing so, I've come to realize that the cultural differences don't matter. More importantly, they don't exist just because I'm white and they're black. They exist because of the manner in which we all grew up. When my neighbors that had been screaming at each other Monday night walked into my house arm in arm last night, I about hit the floor. But I've come to realize that everyone resolves their issues differently. For them, screaming in the street satisfied whatever need they had. While it may be a misguided way to handle anger, it didn't happen because they were black. And not every black person handles their anger that way. It's when we make these sweeping generalizations that we get in trouble.
So what is the point of this post? Because it sure is getting long. As part of my intentional outreach to my neighbors, I hosted a potluck at my house last night. I normally host a bible study on Thursday nights, so myself, the girls in my study, along with some other friends and another Forest Lake bible study group got together to provide food and community for those that live around me. I printed out flyers and Maleea and I walked around to the eight or so houses closest to mine. It was terrifying, I got some strange looks, but in the end I was so grateful to God for the courage to open myself and my home up to those around me.
And you know what? God is SO good. Not only did my friends fill my house with their warmth and love and of course some seriously delicious food, but some of my neighbors actually showed up! Three different households came, including some that I hadn't actually gotten to meet in person. We talked about work, families, pets, the neighborhood, and everything in between. One of the ladies' granddaughters played Yahtzee with my friends, while I got to bond with a neighbor's daughter over coffee and school projects. We all came together to get to know one another. And they all left with smiles on their faces and the promise to do this again. And I genuinely believe we will. One of the ladies said no one has ever done that, just invite everyone to come together. So it's encouraging that they want it. I want to love the people around me. I'm really good at doing that with food. My friends are really good at doing that with conversation. So if we keep pushing, keep striving to build this community, it's going to happen. And that's a really beautiful thing.
I obviously still have a long road ahead of me. Our town has a VERY long road ahead of it. But I'll continue to give God the glory and authority in my life. But I really believe that if we submit to Him, He will keep us in the center of His will. And my life has never made more sense than when I let go and let Him have control. I will continue to fail, I will continue to try to take control again, but He's got me. He's patient with me, even when I'm not patient with myself. And with His help, I will break down barriers and build up a loving community in my tiny piece of town.
(Oh, and the title? Yeah. I started googling my house number in bible verses and Luke 6:31 is just ridiculously appropriate.)
