It started with a visit.

Then a lie.

Then screaming.

The neighbor didn’t like that for the first time, after years of saying “yes,” I replied with a gentle but firm “no.” I didn’t have the time or the good health to allow her child to play at our house after school that particular day.

I adjusted. I smiled. But she turned to her young, disabled daughter and seethed, “Did you hear that? They said they don’t like you. They can’t stand your guts and said you’re not popular.”

I knelt beside the little girl and said, “That isn’t what I said, is it? We adore you and enjoy having you at our home, but today doesn’t work for us.”

“Let your ‘yes’ be yes and your ‘no,’ no.” – Matthew 5:37

But her mother’s noise grew over the days, weeks, months, and years.

I answered with kindness and grace. I baked and delivered gourmet chocolate chip pumpkin bread, a baby gift when she and her boyfriend had a baby, and a fun Easter basket for the children.

“If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; if he is thirsty, give him water to drink.” – Proverbs 25:21

She raved about the bread, but the tensions escalated, and I realized it was time to stop offering tangible kindness that was continually trampled.

“Do not give dogs what is sacred; do not throw your pearls to pigs.” – Matthew 7:6

We became accustomed to the sound of her voice rising across the driveway, the blaring, violent gangsta rap all the neighbors and their children could hear, or her boyfriend parking his dilapidated 1980s sports car on the property line between us and revving the engine so loudly that we couldn’t hear the piano in our house while our children practiced their lessons.

And then there was the passive-aggressive slamming of her back door anytime we stepped outside—or the immense amount of trash, debris, and broken-down cars that began filling their acreage.

Let me not forget how they blocked our vehicles so we couldn’t leave our driveway or landlocked yard. The name-calling, cussing, threats, and fear tactics directed toward my children and me.

The real noise, though, was inside me.

In my chest.

In my jaw.

In the way I flinched every time I heard her voice on the wind.

“When anxiety was great within me, Your consolation brought me joy.” – Psalm 94:19

My children learned to tiptoe when playing outside.

Their laughter softened, then stopped.

They asked why we always had to “play on the back patio when we had a whole acreage to explore.”

They watched me cry while folding laundry. They asked why our neighbors hated us.

“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.” – Ephesians 6:4

We were never quite at rest.

“If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” – Romans 12:18

The kids and I saw Christian counselors to help us process the stress and protect ourselves for future encounters. We always knew there would be a next time.

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.” – Proverbs 15:22

I prayed for peace. And for a time, I found it in small places: in whispered prayers, in the safe corners of Scripture, in candle lit Epsom salt baths, and in the assurance that God was forming something steadfast in my children and me.

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in You.” – Isaiah 26:3

As I prayed, I began to realize that peace didn’t mean everything around us would suddenly grow quiet. It meant learning to set godly boundaries and trust God to protect our hearts and our home, even when the chaos outside our walls didn’t change.

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” – Proverbs 4:23

Through counseling for the children and me, prayer, and intentional conversations, I began teaching my children that while we can’t control other people’s actions, we can choose our response. We practiced what to say—or not say—when hurtful words came their way. We rehearsed how to walk away and seek safety without shame or fear. Little by little, they began to understand that boundaries are not a lack of love, but a way to live wisely and safely in a broken world.

“The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.” – Proverbs 27:12

I saw glimpses of God’s work in their hearts. One day, after our neighbor shouted at my elementary age boys, my sons came inside, eyes wide. The kids had been playing on our back porch with their Schleich animals, where they were partially blocked from her sight and where I thought they were safe. Instead, she’d walked to our property line to harass my children. I braced myself for tears or anger. Instead, the boys explained with calm, proud smiles, “Mom, we didn’t listen to her or reply. We walked away just like we practiced. Now let’s pray for her because she’s mean and angry without Jesus in her heart.”

They grinned with hearts full of joy. I nearly collapsed with relief and gratitude.

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” – Romans 12:21

Parenting in chaos is exhausting. But it’s also sacred. It forces us to root our homes in something deeper than safety—it pushes us to root them in Christ.

Not every neighbor will change. Not every environment will be healed this side of heaven. But in those hard places, our children are learning to walk with Jesus in real time, to shine light in the darkness, and to cling to the One who never leaves or forsakes them.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” – John 1:5

And we, as parents, are being shaped too—not to raise perfect kids in perfect conditions, but to raise peacemakers who know the strength of God’s presence in the mess.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” – Matthew 5:9

Here is the truth I’m trying to get to: Dear world, you don’t have to like or agree with your neighbor to love them.

Love isn’t about warm feelings or shared chemistry—it’s about action and obedience to God. Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 13:4-5 that love is patient, kind, and rooted in choices, not emotions. Jesus takes it even further in Matthew 5:44-45, calling us to love our enemies and pray for those who mistreat us. That means you don’t have to like your neighbor to love them. Liking someone is based on personality and preference, but loving them is an act of faith. Sometimes love looks like praying for them from afar, refusing to retaliate, or setting firm boundaries to protect your home and children. Scripture shows again and again that it’s not only possible to love without liking—it’s both holy and wise.