Their backyards share a property line. A single wrought-iron fence marks the boundaries you can see right through, and a swinging gate pass-through facilitates boundless peace and joy.
For years, both sets of neighbors enjoy the freedom to come and go as they like, sharing flour, swingsets, vegetables, and life.
When summer comes, the gate remains open for the series of splashy evenings spent poolside. As autumn breezes cool the air, the fire pit magnetizes people with stories and laughs. Whenever storms come and limbs fall, everyone works together toward restoration. When heat or cold keep people indoors, the shared fence with its propped gate can be seen through sheltering window panes from any direction.
One spring the western house sells.
Friends vacate, leaving a quiet void. New owners come and occupy the space but choose to dwell at a distance and rather avoid.
No one knows why. No transitional explanations are offered, but they leave nothing unclear.
The new kids on the block are at school the day their parents build the fence. The brand new wooden privacy fence butts up against the sturdy little scrolls of spaced-out iron as it towers solidly over both yards. And it has no gate at all.
The brick stanchions of the pass-through gate rest midway against the impenetrable barrier. Robbed of purpose. Silly looking, really. Noticeable by the eastern neighbors alone, the faithful little gate is positioned for connection and rejection all at once.
This is a true story about a real gate and a real fence in a real backyard … not in the town where I live.
But it is in a land of brave freedom. So those eastern neighbors can circle the block and walk right up onto the western front porch. They can politely knock and say hello, share some zucchini, and smile goodbye. If they so choose.
And they are free to keep doing this forever. Until neighbors move along or change their ways. Until the wooden fence rots or falls.
Even if it is repetitively reinforced, there is freedom to engage the whole neighborhood and freedom to keep that little wrought-iron gateway clear of weeds, the handle loose, and the hinges greased. If they so choose.
I wonder …
Who shares the proverbial backyard of your heart?
Is the gate open or has someone built a wall? Which neighbor are you?
"If possible, as far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all." Romans 10:18
