Next week we are having our first multicultural fair. In a city that the UN has declared the most multicultural in the world, it seems a bit strange that we haven’t done this before—especially when you look at the makeup of our church. We have people from Canada, Italy, the Congo, Nigeria, Albania, Belarus, Ghana, Bolivia, Mexico, the Philippines, China, Korea, the US, Scotland, England on and on it goes.

Today we were out delivering door hangers in our neighbourhood to advertise our upcoming multicultural events. I love delivering door hangers, even though my knees don’t. (You never notice how many stairs there are on a street until you start going door to door!)

What I like most about the process of door hanger delivery is how it makes you slow down and look.

I know my neighbourhood better than most. I walk thirty to forty kilometers a week. I have various routes mapped out so that I have variety. I would venture to say that I have walked down almost every street in our area. Certainly the area Sheila and I delivered in today was very familiar to me. I have walked down those particular streets dozens, if not hundreds, of times before and yet, it was like I had never really seen these streets before. How can this be? Simple—there is a difference between walking through an area and delivering to an area.

In one case you are merely passing through, in the other case, you are visiting each dwelling. You are entering into each family’s personal residential space. You walk up to each door. There is so much more to see of a neighbourhood than what you see from the sidewalk. This is especially true in our area because it is a very mature residential area, so each house is different. It may have been that there was a lot more similarity to the houses at one point, but now generations of families have all left their thumbprints and no two houses are alike.

I walked up to some housed today that were marvels to behold. Walkways and landscaping created mini-tapestries of sight and smell that became little worlds to explore and enjoy. Many of the larger homes in our area now house more than one family—there is more than meets the eye, at least from the sidewalk.

Some homes are obviously cherished possessions—extensions of personality and identity. Other homes were merely places to put ones’ hat. It was clear that life was lived elsewhere, or at least more on the inside than the outside. Some homes were bubbling with the energy of young families with small children; other homes showed signs of seniors adapting their homes to hold on to independence for a year or two more. Life in all of its variety is being lived out on these streets, just as it has been for generations now. I knew that, but I just never saw it quite as clearly as I did today.

I am constantly aware that my life has become much more about “walking through” than it is about “delivery”. I move along but I don’t have the time to observe the life, the challenges, the riches, the diversity, the humanity of a group of people that just happen to share a common piece of ground with me. The question is: what else am I missing? Actually the more important question is: what can I change in my life so I don’t miss what really matters? I venture to guess that this last question needs to be asked by you as well.