As we sat and sipped, a neighbor ambled by and asked if we would recycle a plastic container she'd found in the street. She was on her way to the hardware store. As I put the container in our bin, a fragment of poetry arose from the cobwebs of memory. Something from long ago, when I lived in a remote house in the woods, far from any friends.
"I'll live in a house by the side of the road, and be a friend to man."
At the time, I thought of the poem as being contrary to what I was taught in OALC. After all, most of the church people I knew lived in the country, and invested only in loving their own kind, certainly not their neighbors.
But I'm sure that was a limited view. What were your experiences?