NextDoor, Facebook, and Why I Will Never Delete You

I've made up my mind on my beliefs. I know what I believe about God, politics, violence, gay marriage and many other hot button issues.

That doesn't mean I've stopped listening, though.

In our part of Fort Worth, we have a social media website for neighbors called NextDoor. Ideally it's a place where you can share information that builds community. In the perfect situation, you would use the website to recommend a local plumber, to share information on a municipal concern, and to get to know your neighbors better.

In reality it's nothing like that.

There are a number of people who post about missing or found pets, and I always read their posts with care so I can watch out for the dog or cat. Others promote their garage sale, which is nice because they share pictures.

By far, the majority of the website, though, has been reduced to petty grumbling. Currently there's a 100+ comment stream about code compliance officers.  Basically the city is asking for volunteers to help alert them to code violations in our neighborhoods. This has opened the door to people throwing around words like "Nazi", "Big Brother," and "criminals." Irritated, others have commented that they will now cancel their account.

Not me. 

On Facebook I have a wide variety of "friends." Many share my outlook on life.  Many don't. I have a few friends that post opinions that consistently make me uncomfortable. Some use their Facebook page to spew hate, inciting others to delete their imaginary friendship.

Not me.

With the increasing personalization of society, it's easy to surround myself with people that only agree with me.  I can choose to read news that only enforces my views on the world. I can subscribe to blogs that share my opinion.  I can limit social media friendships to those who stand on the same soapboxes. I can schedule my social appearances, attend my church, and spend all my free time surrounding myself with sameness.

But sometimes I get sick of my own voice.

www.sxc.hu

Instead, I want to listen. I want to hear all sides of the story. I want to be exposed to opinions that make me uncomfortable. I want to read the comment stream that dissects petty complaints.

Listening to the other side reminds me of the size of my world. How small my world is when mine is the only voice heard and everyone agrees with me. When I hear you share an opinion I disagree with, I am reminded of the existence of other views and voices. I pay more attention to what I am passionate about when I hear others share their passions. 

I remind myself of the humanness of everyone. I am connected to real people and not just the imaginary "other side." I recognize how different our worlds are when you are passionate about the concrete on your pathway matching the concrete on your driveway. 

When I am exposed to the stories and concerns of others, I realize my concerns today won't be my concerns tomorrow. One day soon I won't be worried about homework or kissing injured knees.  My life with change.

I conciously listen to the other side of the story, but sometimes my ears get tired.

On the neighborhood website, I noticed a pattern with a particular user.  This gentleman was quick to grumble about any topic listed. It began to wear on even me, who was initially happy to read his views. I kept sharing with Adam how annoyed I was at this particular man's postings and complaints. I mulled over blocking his posts so I could avoid him altogether, but that didn't feel right.  Instead, I resorted to thanking him.  For every post, similar to Facebook's "like" button, there is a "thank" button. Every time that neighbor posts something, I go in and click "thank." At first he continued his three posts a day barrage of complaints, but I am happy to report that is no longer. Instead, his postings now are mostly positive and helpful.  I do realize this is a mixture of killing him with kindness and being a smart-aleck, but it made me feel better.

I truly do want to hear other sides to the story. I want to surround myself with different rather than same-same. I want to constantly expand my horizons and my world view. I want to put a face with that issue. I want to remember that the "other side" is real people and not just a "bunch of lunatics." However, my compassionate listening can only go so far when faced with constant complaining.  I might just have to thank you and move on to the next topic.  However, I won't ever delete you.

Dog poop, humility, and loving your neighbor

We have some fabulous neighbors and it's easy to love them.  One of our neighbors bakes a cherry pie for Adam each year and brings the kids birthday presents.  One neighbor leaves clippings and extra bulbs for planting on her curb to share with others.  Several neighbors are excellent at driveway chats.  Two kids down the street love to play with Claire and Paul while I talk with their mother.  Yesterday morning, our neighbor across the street who uses a cane and walks only half a block at a time, came all the way over here to deliver a cute watch he had found for Claire.
And then we have the "loose dog house" neighbors.  The neighbors that no matter how many times you tell them politely or rudely in person, no matter how many times animal control is called, no matter what, their dogs always seem to get loose and come poop in our yard.  This isn't new and it's something we've struggled with since we moved to the neighborhood, eight years ago.  I realize that when our biggest complaint of the entire neighborhood is that a dog occasionally comes and poops in our yard that we have it better than most, but it's still annoying.
Tuesday night I was packing and moving furniture and toys for the 1,000th time since March and I was hot and grouchy.  The dogs started going crazy barking and the kids realized we had a "loose dog" pooping in our yard.  I ran out and started yelling at the dog, chasing it back home and popping my apron at him.  Once I chased the dog to his home, one of the owners came out and apologized profusely.  She even offered to come clean up the poop.  I shrugged, took a deep breath and headed home, muttering all the way.  I even complained to another neighbor, "We've had eight years of this!"
I got back to moving stuff, making dinner, and supervising showers when the doorbell rang.  The loose dog house neighbor was at the door with a pooper scooper!
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said.  "But I can't find where the dog pooped.  Can you show me?"
I went outside and found it for her.  She apologized several times while picking up her dog's poop.  My anger diffused, I told her she had humbled me.
Events like this happen often to me.  Just as soon as I, judge of all people, decide that I don't/won't like someone, that they are not redeemable in my eyes, they do something that changes everything.  Just at the moment I have made my mind to hate, grace comes streaming in.
Even when I stamp my foot, love wins.  Every time.