Fences, Neighbors, and the Space Between

What makes a good neighbor when the world has no borders left?

Jesus was asked, “Who is my neighbor?”
He answered with a story that crossed every line — a Samaritan binding wounds while the religious walked by.
Neighborliness, it seems, is not about location. It is about mercy.

Robert Frost offered another view: “Good fences make good neighbors.”
He was teasing us, not teaching us. Some fences protect peace. Others keep it out.
The wisdom is knowing which kind you are building.

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I have lived beside saints, smokers, scholars, and scolders.
In dorms and rented flats. In a large house with friends.
I once managed a thirty-six-unit building where life moved like a slow elevator — people entering and leaving in silence and surprise.
A couple from South Africa showed up one rainy day, looking for a place to land.
He was studying literature. She was already writing books.
I welcomed them in, made coffee, explained the quirks of the old stairwell.
That small kindness reminded me that hospitality is not decoration; it is the foundation.

Later, when our family moved from Milwaukee’s east side to the west, the pattern continued.
Our new neighbor was a zookeeper — kind, earthy, steady.
She taught our kids the language of plants and animals, left seedlings at our door, watched our house when we traveled.
It was ordinary grace, the kind that builds slowly.

Not all neighboring goes well.
Years ago, renting the lower half of a duplex with little children, I learned what tension feels like through the ceiling.
Every footstep drew complaint.
I learned that noise becomes invasion when trust is thin.

Where we live now, the rhythm is quieter.
Neighbors wave from driveways. We bring in each other’s mail.
Last summer we built a privacy fence — a gift from a friend who helps us serve meals at the Hope Center in Waukesha.
He showed up with extra panels and stayed to help install them.
The woman next door, tough and talkative, approved.
She smokes while tending her immaculate lawn — clean planes of grass, straight as a ruler — and she keeps it greener than any of us.
The fence helped us both: not to divide, but to define the space where kindness could grow.

Our fence carries the handprints of our children, smudged high and low like a record of growth.
Beneath a small sign that reads “Life’s a Garden — Dig In,” they once played sword fights and castle defense, laughing on either side of the boards.
What began as privacy became a place for presence.
I used to think fences were meant to keep people out.
Now I see they can frame a story, hold a memory, even catch the light just right when mercy passes through.

So what makes a good neighbor?
Not proximity. Not opinion. Practice.

1. Welcome – Make room for the stranger, whether across the hall or across the ocean.
2. Boundary – Build fences that protect peace, not pride.
3. Watchfulness – Notice without prying. See without staring.

Even online, the same truths apply.
I have found neighbors in the WordPress world — people who read, comment, and share with genuine care.
No fences, no mailboxes, just words and presence.
It is its own sort of neighborhood — quiet, kind, and real in the ways that matter.

In a world stitched together by screens, being a good neighbor may be one of the last local arts.
It asks for presence, patience, and the courage to bend toward mercy — again and again.

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I Wonder:

Where is one small space you could make more welcoming?
What boundary could you rebuild with humility instead of fear?
Who nearby — online or across the street — could use your quiet watch this week?

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Tags: #FaithAndCulture #GoodNeighbor #Fences #Community #Mercy #Boundaries #WordPressCommunity #Forming20 #SpiritualReflection