And...breathe!

Labor Day weekend has come and gone. It's as if the whole island has exhaled as the energy of summer starts to disappate with friends leaving for their winter homes, school starting, and businesses shifting to fall hours. There suddenly seems to be more space available in the lives of those who live here year-round. The ferry holds a higher percentage of familiar faces. Life seems to be settling from its frantic summer pace into a more sustainable pace.

Of course, these are my conjectures, not having lived here during the fall or winter yet. Perhaps it's because I personally feel more settled on the island. Perhaps it's because I've made a few more connections with people and orginizations these past couple weeks. Perhaps it's because I have the fall more or less planned out through Advent and Epiphany Plus with worship and group studies (even if content creation isn't quite finished...thank you Marica McFee and the Worship Design Studio workshop!) Perhaps it's because I'm not quite as tired as I was during the first trimester of my pregnancy.

Whatever the reason, everything suddenly doesn't feel as overwhelming as it did before. For that, I am immensely grateful.

Island Living

We are living on an island.

To say that it has been an adjustment would be a bit of an understatement....the least of these being the nearly irresistible urge to start belting Lonely Island's "I'm On A Boat" every time I take the ferry. (Just to warn you, the video is completely NSFW).

In all seriousness, I've discovered that life runs by the ferry schedule. Island wisdom dictates that "there is always another ferry" so if you happen to miss one, it's best to have a list of errands you can get done before the next boat. However, it does restrict what you can do on the mainland. No more late night movies unless you have a friend willing to let you crash on their couch. Lunch dates end with "Oh crap, I have to catch the boat" and a mad dash up I-295, ending with running from the parking lot with a huge pack of toilet paper in your arms (because, of course, batching errands is important) and sliding into a seat right before the engines engage. (No...that situation was completely hypothetical...really...)

This means planning has become a lot more important - because emergency ice cream isn't always available at 7 PM from the grocery store (not unless you want to drag yourself to the Yarmouth Hannaford on the 8 PM boat and not get home until 9:45 at night). Fortunately, I haven't hit the pregnancy cravings...yet. We did buy some frozen pizzas and dumplings from Trader Joe's just in case though. Buying in bulk has become a life-saver, as has Amazon Prime (thank you dog food deliveries...because I really don't want to be lugging a 30 lb bag on the ferry...although with your recent reports about your company, I sadly may have to reconsider our Prime membership). Fortuntely, we do live in the kind of place where, if you run out of sugar, you can, in fact, borrow a cup from a neighbor (which we did earlier this summer).

I'm still figuring a lot of stuff out. Moving here in the middle of the summer was a bit like drinking from the firehose of people, places, events, faces, names, and connections (oh, *you're* so-and-so's daughter, married to another-so-and-so's son...and are you here year round or for the summer?). Add starting a new job to settling in to a completely different way of life (not to mention the minutiae of moving to another state) to being in the middle of huge life changes and...yeah. Life's been intense this summer. Good, but intense. Things start to quiet down around Labor Day, and then again around Colombus Day, as I am told. I'm looking forward to getting more settled in the fall.

A Vacation of a Lifetime

"It's the first adult vacation we've ever taken together!"

It dawned on me a few times after we had said it that this sentence might be misconstrued to mean something other than what we had intended.  Granted,  we'd always elaborate, saying that it's the first time we've ever really vacationed anywhere that wasn't either visiting relatives or owned by relatives or relatively near relatives.

Calling this a "grown up"  vacation doesn't really fit either, even though we've certainly consumed enough "grown up"  beverages for it to qualify.

This is our first time out of the country together,  discovering a new place together, really travelling together and we've kinda joked around saying it is our second honeymoon. This August will be eight years married for us.  Ten years together.  Almost fourteen years since we first met and became friends. So -  I think the terminology fits,  especially since we are unlikely to get another vacation in like this for a long time.

So far,  it's been pretty awesome. We've both felt the need to unwind and relax,  which has basically translated to two full days on the beach and evenings out on the terrace in the hammock.  Today we didn't even venture in to town (which is about a 25 minute walk along the beach).  I can't remember when I've had no responsibilities beyond whether I should swim before or after lunch.

Tomorrow we're hoping to be a bit more active and venture in to Puerto Viejo for some shopping and cheap empanadas.

One thing that is on the shopping list?  A hammock.

Things I Will Miss About Haverhill

We closed yesterday. It's a bit surreal and it hasn't quite hit me, even with the large check in hand and fewer keys on the keychain. We were saying goodbye to various places as we were driving by on our way to the closing. Here is a list of a few of the things I will miss (aside from the many friends in Haverhill):

- Running in Winnekenni Park (well, maybe I won't miss the running part as much...I will miss Winnekenni)
- Our neighborhood (which was pretty awesome in many ways - beautiful houses, easy walking distance to the downtown, good neighbors)
- The Love/Hate relationship I have with Market Basket (maybe not)
- Seeing the American Dog by Exit 48 on I-495 S done by the amazing Dale Rogers Studio so frequently
- The amazing restaurants downtown and in Bradford (Wicked Big, the Artist Cafe, Keon's, Lakeview Kitchen, the Barking Dog, to name a few)
- being a part of so many great community organizations
- All the places to get Roast Beef
- Walking Downtown
- The Farmer's Market
- The River and Classical New England (thank goodness for streaming)
- Massachusetts Politics (especially given LePage's current ravings) and Affordable Health Insurance (we'll see about this last one?)

Anyway - thanks for the past 7 years, Haverhill. Before I moved there, you were just 5 exits off of 495. I'm glad I learned that you are so much more.

Goodbye to Haverhill

It's hard to believe that our time in Haverhill is coming to a close. When we move at the end of May, we will have lived in this city for almost 7 years. There are parts of this community that have shaped me in ways that I am grateful for - especially the relationships and connections between so many people who were about making this city a better place. I've learned a lot about leadership, investment in place, community organizing and civic engagement from my time here.

On a more personal level, the friendships and spirit of this place I know I will carry with me. Haverhill is a city that is slowly remaking itself and breaking away from the negative reputation it has been given. Out of its glorious, industrial past through a period of difficult times, a greener, more creative, vibrant and thriving city is emerging. I'm grateful to have been a part of many organizations helping to make that future happen.

Over the next few weeks we'll be saying goodbye to this city that has been home for this season of our life. Since leaving my hometown, it's been the place where I have lived the longest and have learned what it means to begin to set down roots in a place and begin to truly "know" a community. It was here in Haverhill that I came to fully appreciate the value of locally grown food and getting to know those who grew it. I've come to love local business and being able to walk down the street and greet my neighbors. I enjoy going to the grocery store and running into people I know.

So thank you, Haverhill, for all that you have given me for these past 7 years. It's been a good run. You are full of good people doing good things, and I know that you will thrive. Thank you for letting me and Ben be a part of your story for a time - and here's wishing you all the best on all the exciting things to come.

New Rhythms of Life

(Note: this post originally appeared in Ben's monthly newsletter. If you haven't subscribed yet, head on over to his website and do so! The version I'm posting here is slightly expanded from the original article). 

For the past few months (since October, really, when our ministry with The Vine ended), I have been working as a barista/cashier/bookkeeper/whatever-they-need-me-to-do-staff-person at a local specialty food shop. The work has been a nice change of pace on the whole; the hardest part was transitioning from setting my own schedule to working every day from 11:30 AM to close. (The other fun change transition was one from being sedentary to being on my feet all day. I eventually adjusted to running around the store: from the counter to the kitchen with orders, empty baskets, coffee urns, and dishes.)

Now I find myself at the end of this six month adventure, getting ready to move back into professional ministry and its own rhythm of life (goodbye lazy Sunday mornings!) as the pastor of the Chebeague Island United Methodist Church (more reflections on this exciting news to come later!). There are a few learnings that I am planning on taking with me from this employment experience:

1. Weekends are awesome, and everyone needs two days off. Sundays and Mondays were my “weekend” days where I didn’t have to be at work. One of the biggest pieces of customer feedback was “you should be open on Sundays!” to which we’d respond “we need weekends too!” So, as I head back into the ministry, there will be two days off. Consecutive days off.
2. Scheduled time. I know that ministry blurs the line between “life” and “work” and there will be times when I’ll have to negotiate that boundary. Scheduled time for “work” (sermon prep, Bible study, administration, worship planning, visitation, etc) allows me to be more focused and productive, and then when I’m “off” I don’t have to feel guilty for not doing “work”.
3. Mastering small talk and taking conversational risks with people. I am an introvert (Ben and I disagree on this sometimes). This job forces you (in a good way) to talk and interact with a lot of people all day - and sometimes meaningful conversations arise. It’s been great to be able to realize that talking with strangers can be lots of fun.
4. Being more active! I definitely don’t want to be sitting at my desk all day in front of a computer as I prep. Taking walks around the island with the dogs and running more are two things I’m looking forward to. I’ll have to be really intentional here so I don’t slip back into old patterns.
5. Good food. Oh. My. Goodness. Being surrounded by good food every day was such a gift. My usual lunch at work was a bowl of soup and I found that that was enough to get me through until dinnertime. It was so delicious (and most of them on the healthier side). It really made me value sitting down and appreciating the food in front of me and savoring every bite. (And, to be sure, I'll be stocking up on the Chinese dumplings they sell).

I start July 1st. I’m excited to see where this journey takes me as a pastor (and Ben as a pastor’s husband!)

2015 - The Year of Less Stuff

I wouldn't say that I'm a hoarder (probably most hoarders wouldn't say that they are hoarders either). Really, I'm not --you don't have to wade through piles of old magazines to get into the kitchen, or shove mountains of clothes to sit on the couch. My office floor is visible and I have open spaces on my desk.

I just have an emotional attachment to my stuff.

For most everything I own, I can remember (1) who gave it to me, and (2) where it comes from. To entertain the notion of giving things away makes me feel like I am offending the person who originally owned this item and that it somehow belittles the relationship we have to even think about removing it from my possession.

Or, for the items of mine that aren't so sentimental, I have this "I can/will use this someday" attitude that is not really based in reality. Magazines will somehow magically become collages, yarn will one day become comfy afghans, candles will be burned and bookmarks will be used. (Note, I never, ever use bookmarks.  I generally remember the page number of the books I am in the middle of).

During the first half of this year, Ben and I are going through the house and down-sizing. There are a variety of reasons for this, but the biggest one is that we have way. too. much. stuff. There's just so much that we've moved from apartment to house to house that has never gotten unpacked. There are books we will never read again, or games that will never be played again (there are so many games that are way better than Monopoly), or papers that we'll never need again (honestly, notes from a meeting taken 5 years ago from a church that no longer exists can hardly be that important).

So thus begins the year of detaching myself from stuff. I will work through this idea that getting rid of the knick-knacks received over the years doesn't diminish any relationships or my memories I have of the people who gave them to me. I'll have a cleaner office and a less cluttered house. I'll have a few extra bucks for the date jar from all the stuff we sell. And I'll probably be a more healthy person at the end of it all.