Giving and Receiving

A young couple moved into our neighborhood about two years ago and I ashamed to say that before last week, I had never met the woman face-to-face. Oh, I had waved and said my hellos as I walked by her house and had met and talked to her husband. But I never did the "welcome to the neighborhood, here are some cookies" thing. It really bothered me that I can be a "stick to my own space" kind of person; my mother welcomed everything that crawled and breathed when I was growing up. She had a Japanese Bible door-to-door salesman to dinner once! (they weren't Japanese Bibles; he was Japanese and also a Buddhist, so my mother said "of course you must come to dinner").
About ten days ago I got my opportunity to be a good neighbor when Becky fell down the basement stairs (backward) and had to get eight stitches in the back of her head. I noticed the commotion of an ambulance and two police cars at their home down the street and have enough Gladys Cravitz {remember "Bewitched"?} in me to make inquiries as to what was going on. I immediately made a casserole and took it over the next night when I knew she was home from the hospital.
I got to meet her and her mother who were both very friendly and easy to talk to. Becky is doing okay and she and her family did their best to try to "Becky-proof" the house a little more. You see, Becky has MS and walks with a walker.
I felt good about my neighborly gesture and thought it so sweet when I got a message on my answering machine, thanking me for the food.
But I was downright surprised when Jeff rang the doorbell yesterday with my casserole dish, filled with a huge batch of homemade marinara sauce. My mother would be proud of them. I know we were blessed.