THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR
By: Pastor Dean M. Porter

Like most boys, I spent the majority of my days outside. Whether a warm, balmy summer’s day or snow covered grounds, my territory was out side.
There were adventures waiting for me out there. Indians to chase, clubhouses to build, or boxcars to ride down steep hills, adventures were waiting around every corner of my neighborhood.
Even next door.

And like most kids growing up, everyone was confronted with their monsters, or boggy man! Mine however was a witch! And she lived in the house next door.

We lived in an old, frame house built in the early 1900’s. Our floors were wood, which creaked and gave me away when I came in late or tried to sneek out for nighttime adventures. My Momma’s bionic ears didn’t help matters either!

Yet everyday when I opened, what was to me a massive French door and stepped foot on our porch, my tiny, yet inquisitive eyes always glanced to the left at the witch’s house!

It had all the ear marks of a witch’s home, from the non-existent paint on every wall, to the delapotated front porch, and the shutter’s that hung off balance beside the windows, to the over grown shrubs and lawn, not to forget the massive population of stray cats which roamed her porch and property!
Yes, this was the place the neighborhood kids would not dare to venture upon.

Not that we had many neighborhood kids. The town I lived in was very small. In fact, we had a post office, small gas station, and the train that made its daily passage through our little community. Sometimes we’d place rocks on the train tracks, so when the train came through it would derail and my little group of bandito’s could help ourselves to what we imagined was a cargo of candy that filled every car!

Unfortunately for us, the only candy we enjoyed would be the candy we collectively gathered from our pockets! Then we made our way down to the creek which ran underneath the bridge.

With our cane poles in hand and wieners for bait, we were on our way to the bridge for more successful adventures...catching perch and crawdads!
Then, when evening came to settle in, the aroma of dogwood and wild flowers seemed to fill the night air. My fellow pirates and I would begin our tales of the witch which lived next door!
One kid would tell tales of how her stray cats would disappear one by one as she ate them for supper! Another kid would say he’d seen someone gazing out of her window white as a sheet with a daze of desperation on their face!
Before we retreated to our homes where our supper was waiting, there were times some would stop at the front of her house, throw a rock and run.
One day, I can remember it like it was yesterday, my momma wanted to introduce me to a woman she’d met.

Her name was Inez. She lived next door!
Oh my gosh, the witch would soon know my name! Was my mother crazy? Did she have any idea what she was about to do? Would I be the next kid to end up missing in our little town? With every step we took toward her house my heart beat became more rapid, until finally we came to her doorstep and at the sound of my mother’s knock… all time stood still!


The door slowly opened, and I squeezed my momma’s hand and took one final gulp before the witch vaporized me!
And then...there appeared this sweet, little old woman who wasn’t at all what my buddies and I pictured her to be! My mother and I had visited with her for a good long while. You see, Inez didn’t have any kin that could come and repair her home, and she was too frail to mow her own lawn or trim up her shrubs.
Her lawn had become my new responsibility, as well as other various chores around her house.
To my amazement, the witch wasn’t a witch at all! She was a sweet elderly lady, with a name! All the stories and tales that were told of this lady had seemingly faded away from the pages of my mind. That is, until now.
You see, Inez’s front porch had shadows alright, the shadow of a steeple resting high upon a church directly across the street from her house. All those years she lived in our community, and the very symbol of help and charity did nothing but hide her in its shadow!
The Bible speaks clearly to the churches of our communities to, “honor the widows”-First Tim. 5:3.

In fact, the Bible is even more particular concerning what we, the church, should be doing for these precious forgotten ones; it says in James 1:27-“Pure and lasting religion in the sight of God our Father means that we must care for orphans and widows in their troubles, and refuse to let the world corrupt us.”

Let me challenge you, not as someone who walks down the memory lanes of his own life ad sees what he could have done differently, let me be someone who points out the needs sitting right underneath our noses today! Needs too precious to ignore any longer within our own towns and communities!

The Bible says (paraphrased) as children, we thought as children; talked as children, and acted as children. But now, let’s put away childish things and selfish mentalities and become more than just a steeple in our cities.-First Corinthians 13:11.

Together, let’s change the present and future by becoming the loving, caring people the Lord
created us to be.

Then, one by one we can start putting an end to hungry widows, and orphans.
One by one we can bring the outcasts out of the shadows and in to His Light...by loving them!
One by one we can clothe and lovingly help them.

Then, one by one we WILL become one family when we begin to serve and love the house next door like our own! Remember Matthew 19:19 (NLT) 19Honor your father and mother. Love your neighbor as yourself.”

From a Pastor's Heart,

Pastor Dean M. Porter