As neighbours go, we're an odd match - but it works

We live in Upper Hutt, close by the local baptist church. I think I've told you about this before.

As neighbours go, you could say we're an odd match. The congregation next door comes together in faith and community and hymns. Our family are gay-lovin' godless commies with a frequently unmown lawn, belting showtunes as we hang out the washing.

But, whatever: it works. We chat across the fence, in difference but kindness - because if you can be different and still be kind, well, life is better that way.

I was always a bit curious as to what went on next door. I'm not super proud of it, but the half-arsed Catholic I was raised to be wasn't always kind to other denominations. We could look down our noses sometimes, at the upstarts we called the 'happy clappies'. After all, we Catholics have been at this for almost 2000 years. We've got ROBES and stuff. And we've got fancier ideas, like transubstantiation, although I'm not sure why I'm meant to be impressed that God's been in my wine. He should bloody get His own.

That kind of thinking was an old habit, and one I didn't like, but old habits can die hard. Deep down, a little part of me was scared that, a family with a trans kid, we might not be welcomed by a church like that - even though we are not fully welcomed in ours. I guess I've got used to being rejected by my own. Someone else's rejection might actually hurt.

The church premises is the church itself, and a house that used to be the church office. About three years ago, the pastor hatched a plan. He told us about it over the fence. He said, we are in a housing crisis, and here our church has a house, underused. That's unconscionable. A bit of doing up, and someone who needs it could live here. He asked us, and he cared about the answer, would we have any worries or concerns about this?

And we gay-lovin' godless commies said, hell no. Everyone needs a place to live. It'll be good to have new neighbours. So long as they don't keep me up past 8pm, I added, like I was joking, but I really, really wasn't.

And so the church community got to work on the house beside the church.

Early on, the sodding purple agapanthuses around the section got torn up with a digger - a move I heartily approved of, because you don't need to be a Bible scholar to know that agapanthuses are God's scourge upon this land. A fence went up, and a gate attached. Concrete was poured. A circular saw buzzed and a ramp appeared by the front door. With carpet and paint and time, a family home was created.

Today we were invited to a special service at the church, followed by a lunch, to celebrate the completion of the done-up whare, almost ready for our new neighbours to move in. The mayor came, and local housing advocates. With emotion, the congregation took us through their three-year journey - right from the moment that they knew, because of the anguish of the housing crisis for our community, that they had to act.

We offered thanks together, in te reo and New Zealand Sign Language and English. And it was when I spied one of the congregants - in a proudly rainbow shirt that said 'They, she, he, US' - well, that's when I knew we were truly welcome.

Upper Hutt Baptist Church, I am proud of what you've achieved, and proud to call you my neighbours. Love is practical. It looks like rolled up sleeves and ripped up agapanthuses. It is weekends given up together for working bees. It is sticking at it for three long years, through a lockdown and more. And it's a mean as bacon and egg pie at the end of the journey. Please pass on my thanks to whoever brought that bad boy along.

I don't know much about the Bible, but I'm sure there's a rainbow in there, as well as 'They, she, he, US'. And there's something else in there I should probably remind myself, about loving my neighbours.

Just don't keep me up after 8pm. Again, not joking.