The Neighbor I Needed Was Me

The first Monday of January 2025 arrived under a thick blanket of snow—at least 10 inches deep. Our homeschool co-op canceled classes for the week, and I was secretly grateful for the unexpected pause. After the rush of the holidays, I welcomed one more week to ease into the new year. 

This morning, I caught up with a friend over the phone. She casually mentioned that she had just shoveled out not only her car but her neighbor’s as well. Her words stopped me. What a blessing her neighbor had—a neighbor like my friend. I found myself wishing for someone like that in my neighborhood. The thought lingered, tugging at me as I glanced out the window and saw the untouched snow piled high on my own walkway and parking space.

A task like shoveling snow is rarely exciting, and I certainly wasn’t looking forward to it. But eventually, I bundled up and headed outside. As I worked through the heavy snow, something shifted. At first, it was just relief at getting the job done, but then it became something more—a quiet sense of accomplishment. I thought back to my friend and her neighbor. And then I looked across the street.

A few months ago, I learned that my neighbor’s husband had passed away. For over a decade, we had lived across from each other without barely speaking. It wasn’t until I noticed his trucks missing and asked if everything was okay that we had our first conversation. She shared with me her loss, her family, and her plans for the future. She shared that she had been a Girl Scout before Daisies even existed, a detail that delighted my daughter, who had recently joined a troop.

That day, I shared a little about my own family, including my role as a Girl Scout troop leader. It was a meaningful connection—one that stayed with me in the months that followed.

As I stood there with my shovel, looking at her snow-covered driveway, something clicked. I could be the kind of neighbor I had wished for earlier that day. Without overthinking it, I walked across the street and began clearing around her car and walkway.

I didn’t speak or see her today. I imagine her coming out later to find the walkway unexpectedly clear, wondering who had been kind enough to do it. The thought filled me with quiet joy.

In moments like this, I often reflect on the lessons I’m teaching my daughter through Girl Scouts—and the ones I’m still learning myself. The Girl Scout Law encourages us to be friendly and helpful. Helping someone feels good, but doing so without being asked feels even better.

Another part of the Girl Scout Law urges us to be a sister to every Girl Scout. My neighbor, now in her sixties, could use a helping hand. Her strength and vision may not be what they once were, but I’m grateful mine were strong enough to lend her support today. Once a Girl Scout, Always a Girl Scout. 

As I finished shoveling, I felt a deeper sense of accomplishment than when I had cleared the snow at my house. I smile at the thought that today she is the lucky neighbor with someone looking out for her. Sometimes the neighbor we’re looking for is the one we’re called to become.