
After trying to help her neighbors recover from a devastating fire, Lauren Puzder is reminded that efforts made to serve others are never wasted.
Exasperated, I let out a big sigh.
I’d been trying to help my next-door neighbors after a major fire destroyed their home. Their family of five had lost everything they owned, escaping only with the clothes they were wearing (and shoeless!). On that day and in the weeks that followed, my husband and I provided meals, shoes, and logistics to this traumatized family: loving our neighbors as ourselves.
Nice deeds, right?
My husband and I barely knew our neighbors, as they are intense introverts who had always avoided eye-contact and interaction. But on the day of the fire, they needed shoes. Water. Coats. Food. And phone chargers. So we offered that immediate aid and started collecting donations from other neighbors.
In the days that followed, my neighbors asked my husband and I to help with other specific requests and material needs — and we met every one.
While our neighbors lived out of a hotel (and were bogged down with decision-fatigue and sick with COVID), my husband and I mowed their lawn, picked up packages off their charred doorstep, collected computer donations for the dad to resume work, bought kitchen items requested, coordinated donations from our church community … the list went on and on, since this very private family seemed to have no support locally, no nearby friends, no community. The situation was dire for the mom, dad, and three teenage daughters, since they lost everything they owned in the fire and seemed financially strapped.
But our neighbors had barely acknowledged our help, rarely providing even a simple “thanks.”
The burden for me to help felt heavy. I had enough to juggle with my own home. One side of our house had melted in the fire and needed repairs. My kids requested counseling and were afraid to sleep in the days that followed, traumatized by the aftermath of the fire. My youngest had just started kindergarten, and my husband and I had jobs to juggle. Our plates felt full.
But God doesn’t just call us to love when it’s easy or to love just the people that we know. He calls us to love our neighbors as ourselves. Even when it’s really inconvenient. Even when they feel like strangers. So my husband and I tried to rise up.
One Last Attempt to Reach Out
A few weeks after the fire, my husband and I decided to make one last attempt to connect with this family, beyond being their disaster recovery team. To my surprise, they accepted our invitation to come by for dinner on Halloween.
But at the agreed-upon time, there was no sign of the family. The mounds of food I’d prepared to share with them wilted, uneaten.
We were leaving to go trick-or-treating when our late dinner guests finally arrived. I was miffed, but invited them to eat the dinner I’d prepared for them — without us. At that point, I let out that big sigh and told myself that I was DONE helping this family once and for all.
Grace, Conversation, and Connection
And then everything changed!
When we returned from trick-or-treating, our neighbors walked over to our driveway from their own to visit with us. They seemed skittish at first, but the mom and dad eventually started opening up to us.
We learned about health and personal struggles that the family had endured … about the many moves and stresses of a husband deployed overseas in danger … about their daughters with blindness, special needs, and debilitating shyness … we listened to them vent about the overwhelm and trauma experienced from the fire.
Hours of conversation passed! Grace and connection poured forth. This family seemed starved for connection and empathy. They even accepted an invitation to join us for Thanksgiving dinner!
Who knows where our new, unlikely friendship will lead. Perhaps God is planting seeds of faith and hope in this family. At minimum, I am learning to trust God’s timeline and plan, not my own expectations or hopes. I’m learning to let go, to let God work through me, instead of me imagining a certain outcome … and to give more than I think I can.
On Halloween night, the hours-long conversation with our neighbors ended around midnight. As we wished our new friends farewell, I offered the mom a hug. In that unexpected hug, I felt her emotion, stress, and tension release. She didn’t let go!
What a gift to get to physically be the body of Christ to someone — and for me to receive so many graces in return.
The next morning, I apologized to my kids later for being so “busy” and less present to them on Halloween and for the weeks prior. My eldest piped in, “That’s OK, Mom. Our neighbors need you more right now.”
Thank you, Lord, for the opportunity to serve.
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Copyright 2025 Lauren Puzder
Images: (center) copyright 2025 Lauren Puzder, all rights reserved; all others Canva
About the author:
Lauren Puzder is a native Kansan presently living in Northern Virginia with her husband and two children. In between paralegal work, she enjoys hikes, calligraphy, and trying to inspire discouraged Catholics.
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