Maine 6: The Quiet Side

On our last full day in Acadia, we headed to the quiet side of the island... out to Southwest Harbor and the Bass Harbor Lighthouse. Southwest Harbor was a cute town with an art fair going on outside the town visitor center. The main street was full of shops and small restaurants. Off the main street, down a small winding road, past some beautiful old mansions that are bed and breakfasts, we pulled up to a dock near the US Coast Guard Station.

The docks and pier were open to the public. There were families fishing off the end of one of the piers. There were lobster boats docked and the dinghys that they used to go back and forth from shore. There were lobster traps stored on floats out on the water. Plastic bins floating alongside the dock filled with live lobster. A great place for photos... I wish I had better shots from that morning!

I imagine it is strange for lobster fisherman to have us running around taking pictures of their work. Imagine someone walking into your office and taking pictures of your desk, your phone, your stapler. Taking pictures of you typing or talking on the phone. I know that a part of me romanticizes lobster fishing, but I know it is hard labor. I know it requires risk and tenacity and faith in the sea. And that at times it doesn't pay an awful lot. I wonder why we are so prone to do that. To romanticize the ordinary in the life of those who are other, those who are different than us. The good part is that we do sometimes see the beauty in what has become ordinary to others. The bad part is that we pretend things are beautiful as a way to avoid the harsh realities of another person's life. After we left the lobstermen/women to themselves, we headed farther around the point. We were looking for tidepools, but the tide was not quite low enough and it was rainy and misty. The rocks were slippery. I suppose after such beautiful sights the last few days, were ready to pass a few by. We did, however, stop at Bass Harbor Lighthouse.

Just a word of advice, from the parking lot, as you face the water, don't take the main path to the right down to the light. Head left, on the path that heads into the woods and then sends you down a set of steps to the rocks below. I much better view!

We finished the day by heading into Bar Harbor... the hub of Acadia. Full of tourists shops. The streets are just so crowded! Cruise ships parked at the wharf. Restaurants. Some cute buildings, but so hard to appreciate after the majesty of the coast. We did hang out at a tiny coffee shop for an hour or so, just relaxing, writing, looking at photos. Then decided to pick up some dinner and take back to our room. We found a little pizza/pasta place just off the main drag that Cathy claims had the best blueberry? pie that she had ever tasted! To be honest, I am glad we didn't stay in Bar Harbor... I wish we had been in a bit more picturesque inn, but glad for the peace and quiet which went so well with our experience of Arcadia.

Maine Day 5: Cadillac Mountain

After a long day on the Schoodic Peninsula, we were headed back to our room for the evening when suddenly, for the first time since arriving in Acadia, the clouds began to clear and the sun came up. We could hardly believe it! And we seized the moment deciding to head up to the top of Cadillac Mountain, the highest point in Acadia. Of course we stopped at the local gas station/pizza place on the way up. Honestly, I was surprised that no one else had dinner with them! It was a beautiful evening and what a great location for a picnic... Okay, no picnic tables or garbage cans... not really anywhere to sit... but that didn't stop us from settling down on some of the rocks to enjoy the sunset.

What a beautiful view... from a rocky mountaintop... out over the islands and oceans that were wrapped in fog. It made me miss the Bay Area... Berkeley was such a great place to watch the fog rolling in over the Golden Gate Bridge and across the bay. Driving into San Francisco from Marin on foggy days was a magical experience as the fingers of fog reached down from the tops of the hills and over the highway. And you never knew what view would await you as you exited the final tunnel leading into the city and the bridge and panorama of the city opened up before you. I love unexpected moments like that evening on Cadillac Mountain. Totally unplanned. No expectations. Just a serendipitous gift. I wish I had more space in my life for those. And that I took more opportunities to enjoy them. It seems that most of my favorite moments in travel have occurred unexpectedly. So why do I try so hard to plan them? Why can't I just let God unfold the surprises of the day? And trust that in God's creation there will be miracles and wonders and beauty? To top off our evening on Cadillac Mountain... a Scottish bagpiper showed up as the sun was setting and began playing for the crowd. Singing the sun down beyond the horizon. That beautiful, eerie music drawn from a heritage that was so tied to the earth and nature. So fitting... a little benediction to the evening. And as the music played, silent prayers of praise were lifted up all around.

Maine Day 5: The Schoodic Peninsula

It would have been enough to spend three days exploring the main park at Acadia. There was so much to see and it is one of those places where you can just hike and wander and climb and explore for days. But, of course, I love to get off the beaten track. While Cathy and I were looking for places to stay, we had come upon information about the Schoodic Peninsula, just 45 minutes from the main park. And it did not disappoint! It began as quite an adventure. Google Maps, taking the direct route, had us winding down a small road that turned into a gravel road that turned into a dirt road through the middle of some sort of quarry. Not sure we were really supposed to be there, but it was quite on a Saturday morning, and I didn't feel like backtracking and finding the long way around... so through the quarry we went. A short cut to the Schoodic Peninsula. We were hoping to hit the Lobster Festival at Winter Harbor on the way, but poor planning on our part and poor weather on God's part made that a very unproductive side trip. Except, of course, the Winter Harbor Visitor Center. Beautiful. Fairly inexpensive sandwiches, salads, and coffee. Free wifi. And a great view of the water. So, on we went out to the Peninsula. It seemed that with each bend in the road, we would come upon another beautiful vista and move farther away from civilization. Each stop was a new beach, each unique, each stunning and so interesting! I have heard of sand beaches and rock beaches... but never a beach that was covered entirely with shells! Okay, there were some rocks and a lot of seaweed...

A beautiful beach off in the distance... the sound of two loons calling to each other. A family fishing off the pier. A few picnickers on the shore.

The next stop was a true rock beach... not pebbles and not boulders... baseball sized rocks... of course in a cove between larger boulders... with a view of our first lighthouse off in the distance.

And then out to the point. The one place that was slightly crowded on the whole peninsula. As with most of Acadia, it seemed as if rocks had just erupted from the ocean, pushed up from the sea floor, and formed this beautiful barren coastline.

The mist and the wind were perfect on this day... waves crashing. I realize they were probably minimal compared to what might occur during a storm. I would love to be there on a stormy day! I don't know what draws me to the coast on storming days. I love the power and the beauty. I would much rather go to the beach during a storm than on a sunny day. Something about sitting in silence just listening, feeling, sensing... On the way back we passed a misty cove with a single lobster boat docked in the middle. A bit farther up was the boat house at Wonsqueak Harbor, stacks of lobster traps on the shore. A beautiful final scene on our way out of Schoodic.

There is more to the day... if you can believe it. A surprise at sunset, but that will need to come in another post.

Maine Day 4: Acadia

Finally, after the long and winding road up the coast, Day 4 of vacation found us in Acadia National Park. Amazing. Beautiful. And, for our trip, very misty. Grey days with the fog rolling in and hovering over the ocean, winding its way up the mountains, over the islands, and onto the shore.

We had tried not to overplan for the day. Just a drive around the main loop in Acadia with a stop at the four major sights: Sand Beach, Thunder Hole, Jordan Pond, and Cadillac Mountain. We received excellent guidance from the two women who ran the visitor center just outside the park... (Just a word of advice, stop at the smaller center outside the park rather than the main center. Much less crowded and excellent help!)

As it turns out, we did overplan... but luckily two of the sights were not really worth seeing that particular day. Thunder Hole was but a whisper with no waves to be seen thundering into the cave. And Cadillac Mountain was shrouded in mist. No view at all. Which makes it all the more fortuitous that we began our exploration of Acadia off the beaten path. We stopped at a pull out wondering what all the fuss was about. As we walked down the path towards the water, we were told to check out the cave.

Anenomie Cave it was called. We scrambled over slick rocks, slipping and sliding, trying to keep from dropping our cameras, to find a series of tide pools filled with wonders! (Well, wonders to someone who once dreamed of being an oceanographer!) Starfish. Snails. A few anenomies. Seaweed that seemed to glow in the dark. Beautiful. And a young girl, her mother, and father, a former oceanographer, to share in the wonder.

It was near the cave that we got our first view of a working lobster boat... off the coast, in the midst, with a real lobster woman!

We could have... and probably should have spent more time here. It was a great spot for taking pictures, scrambling on rocks, exploring tide pools...

But we did eventually make our way around to the famous Jordan Pond for popovers and chili... sitting out on the lawn overlooking the lake.

In between, we stopped at Sand Beach and built our own little rock tower, an ebenezer or sorts. I need to do more of that in my life. Stop along the way to build ebenezers, markers of those moments when you experience God's presence. I tend to pass by them so quickly. Failing to mark them. And in doing so, they pass so quickly from my memory. May I learn to do that in my life... take more time to mark God's presence.

Maine Day 3: The Long Way

Day 3 found us taking the long and winding road up Rte 1 from Wells to Trenton. We got a late start in the morning... it was vacation after all! And had to make a few stops as we headed out... gas, a few items we still needed for the trip. And, of course, Freeport, was on the way. But neither Cathy or I were here to shop... at least not for long. Our plan was to stop at Bowdoin College, Cathy's alma mater, and then quickly head up the coast to a few small towns in the north, Castine and Blue Hill. Bowdoin had some beautiful buildings and it was great to hear stories from Cathy's college days. Go Polar Bears!

Perhaps my favorite part was when two security guards saw us wandering around the chapel taking pictures and offered to let us in...

And then... we started up Route 1. We wound through great little towns, saw some wonderful views, pointed out landmarks that people had told us to look for along the way, but didn't stop. We had a destination to get to. But as we drove, the time seemed to fly by... and the next thing we knew, it was already 5:30 pm and we felt like we were nowhere near the inn we were staying in. Panic set in. Would we get there on time? Would be able to find it in the dark? We ended up skipping our planned stops and booking it to Trenton. I am not sure what the lesson is hear. Should we have stopped earlier on the trip and simply enjoyed ourselves, not worrying about when we would arrive? Should we have planned ahead more to make sure we reached our destinations in time? The one thing I do know... our expectations got in the way of our enjoyment. Expecting the trip to go faster (thank you very much, google maps... for making us think it would take just a few hours!) Expecting great iconic small fishing towns with great photo ops. Expecting a drive along the coast to be relaxing. Expecting ourselves to be much more together before we left for the drive. I've struggled with expectations in life in general. Especially my expectations about what God has for me in life. Especially those promise that God seems to be holding out there for me. Promises that cause me to look ahead rather than enjoying the moment. It would be easy to say that I should let go of those "false" promises and simply enjoy what God has for me each day... but what if those promises really are from God? I imagine Israel struggled with many of the same feelings as they wandered through the wilderness making their way to the Promised Land. They lost sight of God providing for them along the way. They lost sight of God's promises for them. They became myopic in view, neither farsighted nor nearsighted... just focused on what was lacking. May I learn to somehow remain both farsighted and nearsighted in my life... continuing to cling to God's promises (even if the answer is a generation away!) while recognizing God's presence every moment of every day.

Maine Day 2: Walking on the Margins

Day two in Maine found us waking up to my Mom's fantastic breakfasts... a dutch baby (actually a puffed pastry pie... not a little child from the Netherlands!) with apples and blueberries. She is a great host and I wish I had inherited some of her love of cooking (and good food... and gardening... and her energy... and a few other things!). Then began the first of many changed plans on this trip. Three options for the day that we eventually widdled down to two... trying to be more realistic about time. Eventually widdled down to one, because we were still being unrealistic. But, it was not the one we originally intended to see. We actually began our day at the beautiful Laudholm Farms in Wells, ME. An old barn and farmhouse. Rolling meadows. A hike through the meadows and woods to a long sandy beach.

But... after standing at the overlook, gazing out at this view for about 5 minutes, I looked over at Cathy and saw a mosquito. Well, not one mosquito, but several. Not just on Cathy, but on me as well. We swatted a few away, tried to keep going, but it was useless. We finally turned around and went to plan b. A wise choice considering I still woke up from all the itching two night later!) Plan B was a walk along the Marginal Way. One of my favorite places in Southern Maine. A paved path along the edge of the cliffs in Ogunquit. There are benches along the way to sit and contemplate the view. Rocky beaches to climb down to. Just amazing.

The way ends at a pier filled with little shops, cafes, and a pier where tour boats, sailboats, and lobster boats dock.

Cathy and I have struggled throughout the trip with plans that did not work out... a thundering hole that barely whispered, days full of mist and rain, a drive in which we bypassed great little towns in order to reach towns further up the road... only to arrive too late to actually stop. Missed opportunities. Unmet expectations. Too much to do and too little time... sounds more like day to day life for each of us than a vacation. It left us grumpy and complaining, stressed rather than relaxing. I am not sure how we missed God speaking to us early in the trip... telling us to relax, enjoy Plan B. At least that is how I see it now looking back. On our first Plan B, walking the marginal way, we came upon three small stone towers built upon the beach. In the Old Testament, people often erected towers of rocks as a sign of praise to God, marking a spot where God had been particularly present. We were a bit enamored by these three towers. Then my mom, who was up ahead a bit, said, "Just wait until to you round the corner..." An amazing scene. An entire rocky beach covered with towers.

I realize this may have not been the original intention of the builders, but we experienced them as a gift from God. And I see them now as a sign. God is present in Plan B. Why can't I just see that? In fact, sometimes Plan B is exactly where God wants us... walking not along Main Street, but along the marginal way. May I learn not to look at the missed opportunities and unmet expectations in life and instead look for the signs of God's presence, the rock monuments along the marginal ways.

Arriving in Maine

On Tuesday, my friend, Cathy, and I flew from our two respective cities and landed at Logan International Airport in Boston where my Mom and step-dad arrived to pick us up. Four people, from three different states all arriving in Boston within fifteen minutes of each other! Amazing! And worlds colliding... My parents have heard about Cathy for years, seen our travel photos, read our blogs, but have never actually met her. It is strange getting older and realizing that our parents only know about the intricate details of our lives indirectly. And even a bit disconcerting for one like me who has moved around so much. To realize that there is noone who really holds the continuity of my history. Noone who has walked with me through all the places I have been, through most of the experiences I have lived. My history is a patchwork quilt scattered across the country, and the world even... I suppose it makes the knowledge that God has known each of us since before we were born... and will walk with us throughout our lives both on earth and in heaven even more amazing. In a world where we are only partially known, in God we are fully known. Scary, overwhelming, comforting, and deeply moving. So, imagine the contrast of walking into my parents old farmhouse build in the 1700's, taking a stroll to a historic home on the water just a mile or so down the road, and visiting my mom's church, the first major institution in town and the center of a community that sprang up here over 300 years ago. Historic Hamilton House

View from Hamilton

The Federated Church in South Berwick

A Not So Silent Night

Merry Christmas! I'm sorry I missed yesterday's posting, but our Christmas Eve service and Christmas Day preparations sort of snuck up on me. I have to say that I am very grateful that I have a church that allows me to make adjustments on the fly during a service... and so, when the pastor forgets a detail or two, like asking someone to take the offering, she can just call on someone from the front and they step in.

We end this advent season with a photo similar to the one from my first reflection... focusing on the baby in the manger. We ended our Christmas Eve service with the song "Silent Night," but for some reason it seems to me that the evening was anything but silent. A young girl's screams as she gives birth to her first born child. The cry of Jesus' first breath in this world as a human being. Joseph rushing about. The animals restless. A band of rowdy angels shouting "Glory to God in the Highest" right outside of town. A group of shepherds showing up unexpectedly... I just can't imagine them arriving quietly, these hard working people making their way in from tending their flocks to take a peak at this new baby.

We often imagine God in the silence. It is quite a biblical image. God coming not in the roar of thunder or the crash of lightning, but in the still small whisper. We focus many of our spiritual practices on reaching that place of quiet and solitude where we can hear God's still small voice. But I wonder if sometimes in our desire to seek quiet and solitude we miss out on the presence of God in the midst of the ordinary noise and chaos of the day.

God was just as present as Mary cried out in labor as God was in the quiet that followed. God was just as present as the heavy footsteps of the shepherds arrived as God was in the few moments of peace right after Christ's birth. God was just as present in the triumphal singing of the angels as God was in the stillness of Mary's heart pondering it all.

As we go forth in this Christmas season, may we seek to see God not just in the silence and the solitude, but in the chaos and noise of our lives. May we have eyes to see when God is speaking in the midst of our ordinary every day living and breathing. May we recognize God's presence... not just in some distant silent place or deep within us, but right there on the surface. God with us. Immanuel.

No Room

"and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn." Luke 2:7

I spent a few hours this afternoon at the homeless warming center that my church hosts on Fridays. We sat around and watched movies, ate popcorn, played checkers, and talked about sports and travels.

One of the men asked again if we had work for him. Which we don't. He has been looking for months.
One of the women showed me a final notice for the storage space she left all her belongings in back home in Georgia before coming up here to look for work. It goes up for auction in a few weeks.
Another is hoping to get into an apartment soon, but he doesn't have proper id yet and with his criminal record he is finding it difficult to get work.
Many speak of family they left behind, or who left them behind... the pain caused by one or the other was too much.

I realize that things are much more complicated than they appear on the surface, but still... I wonder about a world that leaves so many people out in the cold. Where addiction and mental illness can leave one alone and homeless for weeks, months, or even years. Where one can lose a job and then lose everything because there are no more to be found.

I wonder about Mary and Joseph... ending up alone in a barn to give birth to their firstborn. Forced by the government to travel to Bethlehem for a census. Didn't Joseph have relatives who also had to go to Bethlehem? Couldn't they have helped him find a place to stay? Welcomed them in when they arrived? Looked out for a young girl who was 9 months pregnant making a difficult journey?

And Mary's family... was there no one to travel with them? Where was her mother? An aunt or a sister? Did they have to leave her on her own?

Mary and Joseph, it seems to me, were alone and without resources when Jesus was born. The first sign that this Messiah was one who would walk with those on the margins, reaching out to the poor and working class, the homeless and the alone. His first visitors a group of scruffy shepherds making their way in from the fields. The second a group of foreign dignitaries, not even Jewish!

May our eyes be opened up to those who are left in the cold this Christmas season. To those who are without work or without family. To those who are living far from home. To those to whom the world says, "there is no room for you at the inn."

Songs of Justice

I remember first learning "Where Justice Rolls Down" at CHiC (our denominational triennial youth conference) quite a few years ago. Perhaps what I remember most vividly is thousands of teenagers jumping up and down singing at the top of their lungs about a longing for God's justice in this world. I wonder how many of us really understood what we were singing about?

I didn't realize at the time how unique that song was. But now, after trying to choose contemporary music for worship services over the last year and a half, I recognize how rare it is for contemporary musicians to write about justice. Or several other key theological ideas, for that matter. We've tried to find songs about our ecclesiology, about how we relate to one another as Christians, about forgiveness of other people not just asking God to make us "whiter than the snow." If I had been choosing hymns, I'm not sure I would have found many more justice oriented songs and while there are few more about the church, there still seems to be vast areas that are missing.

What caused this particular shape to our musical vocabulary? When did we move so far away from scripture? From the full scope of the Psalms? From the songs of Miriam and of Mary?

Mary, after the tremendous greeting she received from Elizabeth and the baby, John, in her womb, after the affirmation that God is at work in her own pregnancy, breaks forth in worship... a song that sings of God's might and justice.

"My soul glorifies the Lord and my Spirit rejoices in God my Savior... He has brought down rulers from their thrones, but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but the sent the rich away empty." (Luke 1:46b, 47, 52-53)

May our songs of worship reflect the full breadth of God's character and our life together as Christians. Cries for justice. Laments for our sin. Pleas for grace and mercy. Praise and thanksgiving. What it is to be the church and the people of God... especially as we draw close to Christmas... in Mary's honor.

More Leaping Needed

Okay... I realize it may not look like it... but really... it is a jump. It is supposed to be a leap, but I live in a small flat and my back has been bothering me and I am actually quite reserved about such things, so even a jump like this is quite expressive for me. But it is in homage to one of my favorite scenes in all of scripture:

"When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the baby leaped in her womb and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit." (Luke 1:41)

I'm not sure why the moment captures me so. Is it the unbridled joy that Elizabeth and John (in the womb!) express in the presence of Christ (in the womb!). That little spark of life in Elizabeth responding with such joy to that little spark of life in Mary. John seems to live his whole life that way. Over the top expressiveness... in the clothes he wore, the food he ate, his hygiene, his preaching, his devotion to Jesus.

I wish I had a little more of that in my life. Apparently I was a bit like that as a child... even perhaps with the same lack of social skills as John seemed to exhibit. Perhaps I should have just started preaching repentance to those bullies in junior high! What I wish most is that I would be able to recognize the presence of Christ in the same way that John did. I wish that... in spite of all the suffering and evil in the world, in spite of all the things I struggle with, in spite of unanswered prayers both big and small, I wish that I would just leap for joy in the presence of Christ more often.

That is my prayer for this Advent Season, for Christmas, for Epiphany, for the coming year. May God open me up to leap for joy more often, to celebrate the divine presence of Christ in this world.

Kick Butt Angels

""When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: 'Do not be afraid, Zechariah, your prayer has been heard.'" (Luke 1:12-13)
"Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, 'Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.'" (Luke 1:20-21)



"And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified." (Luke 2:8-9)

For some reason, I don't think angels are quite how we picture them... the angels I have on my tree play cellos and sing sweet songs. They are always smiling and often look like children.

You would expect people to respond with oohs and aahs when an angel appears. An "Oh, how cute!" or "Isn't she adorable!" Instead, people fall down on their knees trembling in fear. Terrified. Often afraid to speak or move.

When I was traveling with friends in Guatemala, we saw statues of angels that seemed a bit more appropriate... we called them "kick butt" angels. One of them is pictured below. They wore armor and carried weapons and arrived with power and might.


We have domesticated angels. Made them our pets, our fairy godmothers, sweet friends that sit on our shoulder and speak words of encouragement. And perhaps they do some of that... watch over and encourage. But more often, they come bearing news from God... a plan that is about to be revealed, a child that will be born, a new king who will arrive and change everything.



They arrive telling us that we are about to take part in God's plan of redemption for this world. And that it may not be easy... for Zechariah it meant months of silence followed by the birth of a son who was beheaded when he was still a young man. For Mary, pregnancy out of wedlock, a son who would soon leave home to follow his calling, and bearing witness to the scourging and crucifixion of her son. For the shepherds... well, that seems to have gone a bit better.


Have we domesticated God as well? God, the great Santa Claus bearing gifts and good cheer? God, our own personal Jesus, answering all our prayers, always encouraging us and affirming all that we say and do?

This Christmas, may we remember that the birth of Jesus requires the same response as Zechariah, Mary and the Shepherds had before the angels... fear, trembling, awe, and great rejoicing that God's presence invites us into God's redemptive work in this world.