I've lived in apartments for most of my adult life, but I've never had
neighbor issues like the one I'm about to write about.
I need to give you a tiny bit of background information. When I lived
in college dorms, I learned quickly how thin walls can be, so I got used to
sleeping with earplugs. I picked up the sleeping-with-earplugs habit again when
I lived in my previous apartment. My previous apartment was next to a swimming
pool and across the street from an airport. I soon became accustomed to turning
up the volume on my TV whenever a plane would zoom past my window and turning the
volume down again when the zoom would fade away. And I'm a musician. I'm very
accustomed to loud, booming background noises. They don't really bother me
anymore. In fact, I sometimes find them comforting; to me, they're a practical
reminder that life goes on.
I lived at the near-the-airport apartment for 6 years, so I had lots of
neighbor turnover. I heard all kinds of loud, booming noises from my neighbors
all the time (including the kind that made me consider calling the cops). I
learned what kind of air fresheners and fans are helpful to deodorize cigarette
smoke (no offense, but I've always hated the stench) that wafts through my
vents. When I worked evenings, I learned things such as how to walk quietly,
how to whisper to my cats, how to strum my guitar without a pick, and how to
clean house and take care of noisy business during hours when people are awake.
So, last night when my downstairs neighbor protested my vacuuming
around 8:30 p.m. and my exercise routine around 9 p.m., it was quite
disconcerting. My current apartment is in a quiet part of town nowhere near the
airport, and a new neighbor moved in a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps the walls and
floors of my current home are thinner than I'm accustomed to, and I just
haven't realized it until now. (When I first moved in, I heard all sorts of
interesting noises from the couple and their babies who all lived in the
apartment next to mine.) But I am getting a crash course in loving my neighbor
(Matthew 22), living in peace with all men (Romans 12), keeping boundaries
where I need them (Psalm 16), and minding my own business (1 Thessalonians 4).
My new neighbor has freaked me out a little bit. He likes to keep his
front door open, which seemed almost like a peeping-tom situation waiting to
happen, but perhaps I'm being paranoid. He also has a frequently barking dog
that I once saw standing unleashed at the threshold of his front door, almost as
if he could easily attack me while I walked past, but again perhaps that was my
paranoia. Then a couple of times when I was outside, I heard my neighbor say
out of the blue, quite vaguely under his breath, "Mumble mumble mumble
mumble mumble bitch." At first I thought he was talking to his dog, but I
soon gathered that he was likely talking to me... without actually talking to
me. (Last night was not the first time I've used my stepper since he moved in.)
At the beginning of this post is a picture of my exercise equipment.
It's dusty from, uh, excessive use. Yeah, that's it. Anyway, it's a stepper that
I've had for a little over a year that comes in very handy anytime I want to
spend 25 minutes in front of my TV while stepping in place. Exercise is like
hitting the reset button for my body. If I hit it on a regular basis,
everything will stay in good, working order. Unfortunately, life has been so
busy lately that I haven't been able to hit my reset button very often at all.
But last night was a great opportunity for me to catch up a bit on life,
e.g., cleaning and exercise. However, almost as soon as I revved up my vacuum
cleaner in my living room, I heard my neighbor frantically open his sliding
door. While I was almost done vacuuming my carpet as thoroughly as I wanted it
vacuumed, I heard 4 loud knocks on my wall or floor -- not sure where it came
from, but I think it's an educated guess that it came from my neighbor. After I
finished my vacuuming job, I decided to take my stepper into my library in case
the noise would bother my neighbor. I also decided that if he wanted me to stop
making noise, he would have to tell me to my face. Animals and children protest
by hitting walls and floors. Adult humans assert themselves face to face.
So, I began my exercise routine, and then I heard my neighbor's front
door open, and I heard him bang loudly on the railing that's outside my door. I
asked God what to do (should I stop? should I walk to my neighbor's home and
have a conversation with him?), and He was very insistent that I should keep
going. So, while I continued my routine, I heard loud knocking on the wall or
floor of my library -- not sure which, but each knock matched each of my steps.
So, when it was time for me to hasten my gait, I went faster. The knocks
matched my pace for a tiny little while, but they eventually stopped after a
couple of minutes. I continued my routine, and I kept increasing my pace, and
then I cooled down, as usual. During my exercise, my mind kept going crazy
while imagining scenarios. I kept thinking that maybe my neighbor would call the cops
because I had violated some sort of noise ordinance. I kept expecting my
neighbor to get other neighbors involved because the walls are pretty thin
around here. I kept waiting for him to knock on my front door like a human
being and tell me to shut up. But none of that happened.
Then next morning, I expected to receive a threatening note outside my
door, but there wasn't one. I expected my neighbor to glare at me from his open
door, but his door was closed, his dog was out of sight, and I didn't see
either of their faces. I kept waiting for apartment management to call me with
an official complaint, but they never did. And why would they? I was just
living my life. I was simply existing.
And in the process of
choosing to love my literal neighbor (in Luke 10, Jesus explains that it
doesn't necessarily have to be somebody who lives next door), I discovered all
sorts of unhealthy coping mechanisms inside me. I found myself imagining a
face-to-face confrontation with him in which I'd bully him back and probably
threaten harm to his dog. I daydreamed about banging my baseball bat on my
fireplace anytime his dog would bark. I even thought I could pull my Hispanic
card and pretend to not understand English... Hola, señor vecino. ¿Cómo está? So, God has squeezed out this nasty stuff that was inside me.
I've noticed that He likes to do that. And I'm glad He does, because none of
that nasty stuff sounds like loving my neighbor. (And I'm glad He can turn nasty stuff into humorous stuff.)
If it were me, I probably wouldn't appreciate booming, obsessive
vacuuming zoom-noises from an adjacent apartment. If it were me, I probably
wouldn't appreciate rhythmic step-noises from an adjacent apartment. So, I'll
adjust. The next time I go shopping, I'll try to pick up a sweeper vac that
works decently while gliding across my carpet more lightly. The next time I
sweat on purpose, I'll whip out my Richard Simmons VHS and prance in front of
the TV. Or if that workout doesn't work out, maybe I could join a gym... and
meet a really cute guy who cares about his physique while loving Jesus and
loving his neighbor as he loves himself and...
Anyway, I've been praying about this because frankly, my neighbor and
his reactions have scared me. Currently, he's not welcome inside my home, and I
don't wish to visit his home. But I've had some helpful ideas. I don't know why
an older man would live alone with a dog, but maybe he's recently divorced or
recently widowed and is grieving and angry. I don't know why anyone would be
intolerant of vacuuming or exercising noises at a decent hour of the evening,
but maybe he has a mental illness like one of my ex-friends who couldn't stand
her neighbors playing music at 7 p.m. or a man having a nearby phone
conversation at a restaurant.
So, while I've been praying about this situation, God has shown me that
He's taking care of it. During one prayer, I was throwing out all kinds of
stronghold ideas (is it an intimidating spirit? is it Jezebel? is it fear?),
but God was like, "You can pray whatever you want, but I'm going to
protect you." So, I want to be safe, I want to be a good neighbor, and I
want to love. I'm good to go. And God also gave me another cool light-bulb
moment.
Probably without realizing it, my neighbor has treated me like the
devil treats me. The devil is like a roaring lion (1 Peter 5), not like a
sharp-fanged lion or a skillful-hunter lion or a refreshed-after-hours-of-napping-like-a-good-feline
lion. Just a roaring lion. My neighbor is older, he has handicap parking
plates, and he apparently only has enough energy to rap loudly on my wall, floor,
or railing. No attempt to meet eye to eye to discuss things in a civilized
manner -- only primitive noise that will go away after a while. If I get off my
butt and live my life like I'm supposed to, the devil becomes extremely
unhappy. He scrambles and starts banging on my walls as soon as I start living.
He doesn't have much time left, but while he's here, he just wants me to shut up.
But God wants me to keep going.
The devil likes to insert his voice into my life out of the blue, and I
think he tries to keep it vague enough to keep me from realizing that it's him,
but clear enough for me to hear the insult: "Mumble mumble mumble mumble
mumble bitch." The devil hates my guts, and there's no way he can hide
that fact.
The devil is a creeper who keeps his doors wide open. If I'm curious
enough, I could peek through and get lured in. But if I do, he'll have a little
demon waiting for me to attack me, and that's not me being paranoid. The devil
doesn't observe any leash laws, and he is more than OK with my spontaneous
destruction.
But I'm not OK with it, and God is definitely not OK with it. If He
gives me a job to do or a life to live, He wants me to keep going. He insists.
He made me to live, so I need to simply keep on living. I need to keep going
one step at a time, getting stronger with each stride, and stomping on my enemy
with each boom of my foot (Romans 16).
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