In December 2017 my husband Tom and I realized a dream of moving from Chicago -- my home for the last 45 years -- to Portland, Oregon. My retirement from pastoral ministry at St. Pauls United Church of Christ had been accomplished in June. It took a little longer than expected to sell our home. After months of living in a holding pattern, a young couple just starting a family came with an offer that seemed fair enough. We had gotten rid of much of our stuff in preparation for the sale so what we were taking with us would fit in a 16x8x8 foot Pod until we found a permanent place to live. Our daughter had a spare bedroom and she was willing to put us up until we found our new place.
That worked surprisingly well for us. We exchanged our services as cooks, home repair workers and gardeners for our room. We had a family meeting at the beginning to set the ground rules for living together. And the three months flew by without any major melt-downs. Before we knew it we had used the proceeds from the sale of our home in Chicago to buy a nice little one-level, 25-year-old ranch home that's perfect for aging in place. And it's in a neighborhood that feels very similar to Old Town Chicago of 25 years ago.
My/our transition has only come with a few glitches so far. For instance, we still don't yet have fully functioning bathroom sinks because the countertops took so long to fabricate. But that's nothing. We have a kitchen sink and that works just fine for everything.
When I think about our migration across 2500 miles to a completely different region. I can't help thinking about the migrants so prominently featured in the news right now. We were motivated to move to be close to our daughter and help her manage life with a demanding career as a midwife. We moved with plenty of resources -- enough money to hire people to move our things, enough money to buy a lovely home that was much less expensive than the one we left in Chicago. As I write, people of all ages are migrating to the United States from countries to the south of our borders with so much less than we had. They are risking all their resources just to get here, not knowing if they will even be allowed to enter the country of their dreams. They are facing an increasingly closed off and hostile environment.
I know the inner resources it has taken for me to make this transition. I've had to confront the loss of identity that I had when I was Pastor Avena, serving St. Pauls Church, recognized and respected by many. I lost the identity of long time neighbor to Dominic and Antoinette, John and Ellen, Joe and Elly, Daisy and Angie. It has called me to trust in a benevolent energy that is working in all things for good. I have been able to bring my creative spirit to inspire me when I start to feel lost or mistaken.
I marvel at the resources of so many of the migrants now stopped and detained at our country's border. Who are they? What sustains them through setbacks? How do they handle the inevitable doubt and regret? How do they handle being so far from those they love?
I am connected to them by the journey. I'm connected to them by our shared humanity and the amazing spirit that enlivens us all. I am connected by attention and my prayers.