Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood

Over a decade ago a wonderful family with a little boy and girl moved next door. The children were a delightfully new addition to the neighborhood.  The endlessly energetic little guy took to calling me, “Mr. Roger.”  The result being that he lived in Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. He was intensely curious and wanted to visit not to talk but to look around in our house. We loved it.  One late summer evening when he was supposed to be in bed, I was standing in the street looking for the first appearance of a particular planet and I heard someone calling, “Mr. Roger, Mr. Roger what are you doing?”  Turning to respond I saw him hanging out his second story window with a stuffed toy under one arm.  It didn’t take long before his mom came to pull him back inside.

The point of this is yesterday I saw him driving a car.  No, he did not have a large stuffed toy propped up on the dashboard!  Actually he is now taller than I.  My reaction was one of joy for him and perhaps a selfish bit of sorrow.  He doesn’t call me Mr. Roger anymore.  He lives in his neighborhood now instead of mine.

Life is one gigantic irony.  We rejoice, and rightfully so, at the growth and development of not only our children but also of our friends and self.  Birthdays are remembered to honor the changes and to remind ourselves of the honored’s accomplishments.  Yet, there is pain at our coming loses.  The more one loves, the more one has to lose.  The life, death and resurrection of Jesus and His promises to us concerning our lives, deaths and resurrections are not just a passing philosophical notion.  They are a necessity that makes it all worthwhile.

Written by Roger Bothwell on July 30, 2013

PO Box 124, St. Helena, CA 94574