Credits

from the previous post: I have to say that I know a few colleagues who pack themselves, who have very few people to help them in saying goodbye and hello. I may have just transferred the world’s smallest balance from one bank to another, but I tell you, I think I am the richest woman in the world.

Heartfelt thank yous to all of the following:

My lay leader, Diane: what a team we made, our great minds thinking, if not always alike, in ways that certainly ran in sync. Your goodbye was nearly my very public undoing.

The C family: laymember Betsy, who was a co-visionary of mine and her husband Tim, who has been the go-to guy to pray for me when I’m crying too hard to do it myself.

The other C family, our neighbors and dear friends. No one could have been a better gift to have sharing a back yard. We miss you so much.

Their friend who I am glad to also count as mine, Glenn. You said goodbye quite well, my friend, and I’ll hang with you and Rob any time.

Amber and Tim, who we were just getting to know and adored spending time with this past year. Keep the faith alive for the young clergy women, m’dear, and the two of you will love visiting us in Montpelier. It’s like Berkley. Except smaller. and much, much colder.

Jeff, for surprising me by arriving and being the missing link between my seminary days, my neighboring Lutherans and my blogging secret identity!

Ted, who arrived too late to move boxes, but still managed to slip  gift into one of them, to ease the unpacking process. Kitchen stuff, indeed.

Megan, Steve, and the little one(s), for being them, and for walking this journey with us. Sister-preacher, ain’t no mountain (or mountain range) high enough, nor a Conference boundary deep enough to keep us apart.

Ru, Jim, Crystal, and Jim, family and as good as family from out of town– I needed you Sunday because you were there for me without having to at the same time say goodbye to me. Thanks. And Ru, as always, the neck felt great.

Lissa. There are no goodbyes for us, and you know that. You only didn’t get lumped in with the family above because we were saying goodbye in a way. This time I’m moving away from you, but we’ve been here before. Distance, schmistnce.

Mom and Dad Clark, who we also felt that we were near for too short a time. You make all those stories about evil inlaws laughable.

Rachael and Jon, with the most open homestead/hotel in all of Vermont, for putting Benji up for a week, and all of us up on a school night.

Mama, unpacker (and work-skipper extraordinaire.

alright, now who did I miss? I mean, I miss you all, but, you know what I mean.

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2 Responses

  1. I haven’t cried since Monday night, you fool, and now I’m all weepy again.

    BUT, Distance Schmistance, indeed. You’ll never get me to move to Vermont (pretty though it may be to look at), but I’ll be up to visit you frequently. And you’d better plan to spend a couple weekends a year in the city with me — I’m counting on hours of entertainment while I convince you that cabs are not to be feared!

    *love*

  2. I was starting to worry that I hadn’t heard that you arrived. Glad all is well. Hope the stupid car battery wasn’t too expensive. Know that the four of us miss you tons and tons. I’m hoping that some Saturday (probably the last one in Sept) we can come to the promised land to see you. And we’ll have to stop off at Miguel’s Stowe-away in Stowe for some green chile stew (pregnancy craving of Galen’s).

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