On my way home from the library this morning, I passed Many People’s Church and waved at my newly-ordained friend who was inside talking to the founding pastor, John.
Then I passed The Common Cup, where John’s wife Ruth and my friends Amanda and Linnea were pulling shots of espresso and steaming milk.
I went on to the Morse grocery store where they invite me to speak Spanish.
Last, I dropped something off at the New to You thrift store and the manager recognized me, we blessed each other’s days, said “see you soon,” and meant it.
All of this within two blocks of where we live.
I feel so at home.
“Wow, you live far away.”
“Isn’t that neighborhood a little sketch?”
These are the common comments Jake and I get from our friends when we invite them over or tell them where we live. And while I understand why a 40-minute el ride to downtown, or an incredibly diverse neighborhood might be unattractive to some, we have become deeply loyal to Rogers Park in our one year here.
(Besides, if everyone saw the beauty in our neighborhood, our rent wouldn’t be so low!)
Hardwood floors, heat included, stellar landlords, trees upon trees, blocks away from the most beautiful beach in the city … I’d take it any day.
Imagine a little corner in the city with murals next to the train station, a local pharmacy and an outdoor art gallery. A brick street bouncing with the music of harmonica and bass from behind the neon glow of a bar. A place where people respond to poster ads and (usually) smile at each other while walking under tunnels of trees.
I feel very at home here, indeed.
But more on that tomorrow.{photo from here.}
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