Are you East, or West?

It was a perfect evening for a run. A bit cloudy and breezy, threat of a storm moved far enough to the South to offer only the refreshing moist air in the wake of its passing overhead . I started out going North a few blocks, then East, taking in the neighborhood. I love this time of year when growing things are fresh and untouched by the scorching sun that will come in later months.

The atmosphere in my neighborhood is always full of activity: families outdoors barbecuing, kids playing in the yard and the street, lawnmowers mowing and sprinklers  sprinkling and various kinds of blue-collar workers parking their utility trucks after a hard day of work. Things don’t quiet down until after dinner is cleaned up and everyone sits out on the front porch to take in the cool evening air.

I ran past all kinds of homes; some cared for well and many not so much with unkempt lawns, weeds, broken fences, hanging gutters, decomposing roofs. Other homes showed the careful attention of owners who worked hard to water, mow the lawn, pull weeds, plant flowers, paint, maintain fences, and so on. The neighborhood reflect the people who live here; they (most of them) work very hard and do everything themselves, if they do it at all.

Then, I crossed Clarkson Street…into the mature neighborhood of upscale Englewood (Cherry Hills Village, to be exact). Like passing through a veil into another world, I was quickly surrounded by quiet and stillness. A distinct hush was created by the large trees, beautifully landscaped, expansive, carefully manicured and  mature grounds. Properties spanned acres and included barns and stables and other out-buildings. Beautiful architecture, large private back-yard playgrounds, fountains, pergolas, gazebos …but strangely, I saw no people!  I ran for blocks (well, actually there are not really “blocks” in this neighborhood) and saw not a soul. No children on the lovely back-yard play grounds with swings and slides and hoops; no one riding or even caring for horses, no one out on the beautiful decks and porches surrounded by fragrant lilacs and flowing, flowering ground-cover and roses…it was the strangest thing. Such beauty and peacefulness; but no one seemingly enjoying this beautiful evening. As I turned to the South to make a loop back home, I passed more astonishing homes with larger yards and more mature and fabulous landscaping; there were rabbits scurrying amongst the low-lying bushes and more birds singing in the trees but still not a human to be seen. A few homes had obviously been re-modeled and were up for sale, and there was one expansive home still the the construction stage. As I turned back to the West, eventually crossing over Clarkson again into my neighborhood, I felt as though I’d run through the set of a movie with no actors. Everything perfect but no one there to perform any lines.

Back in my neighborhood I passed some children digging in the mud produced by a broken sprinkler head and some others playing on a swing made from a tire and some rope around a snaggly tree-branch. There were some tools left out in one yard next to a large pile of muddy rocks and landscaping fabric where evidently the homeowner called it a day after probably hours of hard work of digging up the old weed-laden rock border.  Many in the neighborhood have undertaken this kind of effort, bringing their homes to a state of good repair and beauty through many months of diligent work. Not many in this neighborhood can afford to hire help, much less the raw materials for the kind of thing you see over on the East side: beauty comes with your own sweat and muscle here, and so does keeping it that way.

I arrived at my own front door and went inside. As I hopped into the shower the Spirit whispered, “so…what side of Clarkson does your soul live on?”

What?

“What side does your soul live on, East or West?”

I immediately wanted to reply, “Well, West of course.”    But I hesitated. Isn’t the difference between East and West merely a matter of resources? My soul has had no lack of resources and in fact, I have been designed, landscaped, and tended carefully and lavishly by the Master Gardener of my soul. But…there is this matter of  community… large beautiful homes and none of them “alive” it would seem with people (unless they are always cloistered inside, even on such beautiful nights?) What of hospitality? What of fellowship? There’s more to this equation than “resources.”

I was reminded of my friend Cathy, who actually lives on the “East side.”  Had I run past her house, I think I may have seen people outdoors. Maybe playing volleyball or barbecuing, or entertaining guests. She and I talk, when we get together, about what it looks like to “bring together East and West” at our church, which attracts people from “both sides” of Clarkson. As I thought of this bringing together of two worlds, I knew the answer to the question.

My soul has, indeed, been cared for lavishly…but God is hard at work to bring wealth of soul and hospitality of heart under one roof. Indeed, this is a work only the Spirit can do.

I think I will take this jogging- route more often.

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