Oh, I read the headlines just like everyone else does.

I hear the news reports about the epic rise in our feelings of loneliness, our move toward isolationism for fear of our neighbor, that our distrust in anyone unlike us is skyrocketing.

I don’t doubt the data, nor the conclusions the data represent. But I do sense that something else even deeper is simultaneously taking place.

While we might be telling researchers something they want to hear, and filling out surveys to match the narrative, I think deep down we’re all still craving connection … good ol’ human connection.

That whole one body of Christ thing. … Sound mad? Maybe.

But here’s what I know from personal experience: Three times in the past week alone, as I’ve been walking Howie, a neighbor has stopped to ask me where our other dog Gus Gus was.

I’d then share the sad news that we lost him to cancer, and the neighbor would offer a kind word of consolation, adding that they loved seeing our two beautiful huskies come dragging me by their house every night.

These were not people that I am close to, mind you. Just neighbors who have come to see us as the household with the two huskies. “They’ve always had two huskies. Why isn’t he walking two huskies, rather than just the one?”

That takes observation; that takes investment. … Each of those three people had to notice us go by their house enough times to take note of the fact that one of three of the traveling circus members was no longer present.

And then … well, then they had to care enough to ask about Gus Gus’ absence.

“Hey mister, where’s your other dog?”

Each of these three neighbors this past week — there have been more in the months since we lost Gus — took the time to stop me and inquire about our dog’s whereabouts. That’s more than curiosity, more than coincidence. That’s people, whom I have no more in common with than sharing a house in proximity to each other, reaching out human to human and expressing their concern.

Nothing to gain, no way to benefit. They just cared.

And this has grown my heart this past week. It has reminded me that despite the national trends, we still determine our own behavior. We are still the commanders of our own ships.

We can choose neighborliness; we can choose to invest ourselves in each other. … We can notice each other. We can notice a neighbor’s missing husky.

We don’t have to allow the national growing shroud of cynicism and despondency to drive us deeper into division.

Jesus tells us that “The Greatest Commandment” is to love God with all of our heart, soul and mind, but that there is another like it: loving our neighbor as ourselves.

Friends, when’s the last time you took notice of your neighbors? Amen.

Devlyn Brooks is the CEO of Churches United in Moorhead, Minn., and an ordained pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America serving Faith Lutheran Church in Wolverton, Minn. He blogs about faith at findingfaithin.com, and can be reached at devlynbrooks@gmail.com.