Dear Ones,

Margie girl XmasAs I write I am pleasantly post- our first UUFSB Thanksgiving Day dinner extravaganza. Twenty-seven people, all told, spent four hours of meal-making, feasting, friend-making and game-playing over wine and grog, mulled cider and beer. We had a blast and then everyone pitched in like heroes to put the sanctuary and kitchen back in order. I thank all who came for their good natures, good food and good faith and for the spirit of celebration that settled over us and made us laugh until we cried. I hope you had fun too, wherever you went or stayed.

Ahead of us lie more opportunities to gather, feast, and enjoy the company of family and friends. Our Sunday morning services this month point us toward Christmas and other festivals of light and hope. On December 10th, Ron Kagel and Dan Weymouth, as Rat and Mole, reprise a chapter of The Wind in the Willows in a service called “Homeward Bound.” On the 17th, we will again festoon the Mitten Tree with giveaways and count out the Twelve Days of Christmas in a flurry of geese and pipers and milk maids. On Christmas Eve morning, we’ll brag a little about the Unitarian influence on the secular traditions of the season and then, that evening, bear witness again—by glowing Yule log, chalice and candle light—to the birth of Jesus.

And here’s my traditional holiday recipe gift to you: a morning feast for your good company. Enjoy!

Fluffy Pumpkin Pancakes or Waffles (Yossy Arefi)

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1 ½ teaspoons baking powder
¾ teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon kosher salt
1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
⅛ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 ½ cups buttermilk
¾ cup pumpkin purée
2 eggs
3 tablespoons melted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a large bowl, whisk the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and spices together to combine. In a medium bowl, beat the buttermilk, pumpkin purée, eggs, melted butter and vanilla together. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and gently fold until just combined. Heat a lightly greased griddle or nonstick skillet over medium low heat. Drop the pancakes into the pan by the 1/4 cup. Cook until the batter bubbles at the edges and browns on the bottom, then carefully flip. Cook until the batter is completely cooked through and the pancakes are puffy and deep golden brown. Repeat until all of the batter is used. Yield: dozen+ 3 1/2-inch pancakes or 6 waffles.

Joy in the candlelight to you all,



Dear Ones,

Thinking to share something from my recent trip to the southern Republic of Ireland, I read Seamus Heaney’s poem “Postscript” as Chalice Lighting words for the monthly meeting of the Worship Associates last Saturday. I was struck as I read his brilliant words how much his description of the dramatic landscape of western County Clare also describes what happens when worship works the way it is supposed to. The beauty that comes toward you out of the mist is there for you only for a moment. The more you try to capture it, the more distance you put between yourself and the revelation that is seeking to enter you. That moment best takes you off guard, as the poet notes, so that your heart, blown open, takes in the experience while it is alive, still pulsing with the mystery of that particular collision of shapes and colors, textures and sensations, memories and meaning. No photograph can hold that slow tide of wonder. If you give your attention to creating a record of the moment, you miss it. But we took photos too.

Postscript (Seamus Heaney)

And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you'll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

 Irish musicians    CliffsMoehr

Donnchadh Gough, uilleann piper (L); Robbie O’Connell, guitar; WGBH Boston’s Brian O’Donovan clapping.   The Cliffs of Moher.

Thank you for this precious time away.



Dear Ones,

I’ve got a hodge podge of little things to share with you this month. Linda and I are adventuring in Ireland October 1-10 (I’ll be back at the job on Saturday the 14th—leading Session I of the Belonging series). I have been a Celtophile ever since I was given my first Clancy Brothers album, The First Hurrah! (1964), when I was maybe nine or ten. Recently I discovered that Celtic music pairs wonderfully with gym workouts. One spring morning while I was tackling random hills on the stationary bike to the tunes Brian O’Donovan was spinning on his WGBH Boston Public Radio show, Celtic Sojourn, I heard that he and Robbie O’Connell, a Clancy nephew and musician, were leading a musical tour of southern Ireland. We signed up! We’ll be seeing the sites around Clonakilty (Cork), New Ross (Wexford), Clonmel (Tipperary), and Ennis (Clare), plus enjoying guests and “sessions” most evenings!

My Ancestry DNA analysis last year revealed that 23% of my DNA is Irish in origin. Even though I haven’t yet tracked down the names of those ancestors, I am grateful to be able to explore in situ the roots of my deep resonance with Celtic music. And Speaking of gratitude, on Sunday, September 17, I declared this this year in our Fellowship as “A Year of Counting Blessings.” What does that mean? It means we’ll be taking regular opportunities on Sundays and at other times to lift up our personal and collective gratitude for gifts received and goodness noted. For instance, look for the appearance of a Gratitude Book on a music stand in the foyer or Sanctuary. One Sunday a month I will read a composition of what is written there as part of the service. Anyone can write in it any time, anonymously or not, about a blessing they have received for which they wish to give public thanks. This is a time, in our country and our Fellowship, for making sure we notice and share the good things that are still happening every day. All is never lost. How can we keep from singing?

NOTES: 1. Our orientation to UUism and UUFSB, called Belonging, starts on Saturday morning, October 14th. Yes, it’s a newcomer class, but if you’ve never taken it—no matter how long you have been with us—please consider attending as a way of serving new seekers and as a renewal of your own connection to this faith and community. Stories, conversation, learning and good food! 2. Our very popular contemplative evening services called “Vespers” is returning. We’re offering four services between now and June and the first is Friday, October 20th, 7-9 p.m. 3. I am presenting a 4-hour introductory workshop on nonviolent (compassionate) communication on Saturday, October 28. This is a profoundly effective method of communication in times of peace and conflict. Join us! Sláinte (slawn-cha), Cheers! 



Dear Ones,

I hope you’ve had some time this summer to relax a little, enjoy the outdoors, soak up some sun, maybe travel a little. I’ve been back on the job for a few weeks now, a couple of Sundays already under my belt. Our Homecoming service is coming up on September 10th. Many hands are working on music, our annual photo, worship to launch our year, a little tribute to our amazing Congregational Administrator, Susan Catanzaro, who begins her 21st year with the Fellowship this fall, a fabulous barbecue picnic and—new this year—a post-service mini-concert to accompany our meal! So gather some water for our communion, put on your water colors, work up a little side dish and come celebrate!

Celebration is a great antidote for the fear, helplessness, grief and despair many of us face every morning when we hear the latest news. But that may not be all you need, particularly if there is turmoil in your personal life. If you find yourself in a bad place, please think of me as a ready source of support. I’d consider it an honor to sit down with you and the whatever-it-is that is causing you misery. Call (203-228-0911) or email () if (for instance):

  • You need a sympathetic ear for problems with your job, children, marriage, relationship, or anything else; you are feeling confused, depressed, or isolated or have a joy to share.
  • You or someone you love is ill or facing surgery; perhaps you notice that someone you know in the congregation needs support.
  • Someone you love is near death or has died or and you need help with end-of-life planning or a service; you’re planning to marry, struggling in a relationship or contemplating divorce; you’re pregnant but wish you weren’t or are thrilled you are; you would like to have a child dedicated; you are undergoing a major transition in your life and would like to create a ritual to recognize the threshold you are crossing.
  • You or someone you know has questions about religion or Unitarian Universalism; you want to build your theology, deepen your spiritual life or are in spiritual crisis; you’d like to join the congregation or are already a member and are wondering how you can participate more fully in congregational life; you’d like to share your talents and gifts as part of one of our groups, committees, or classes, or serve as a volunteer in some other way.
  • You want to affirm something good going on in the congregation or would like to discuss a congregational issue that is troubling you; you have ideas about sermons or programs or have a project you would like to initiate; you’re mad at me or someone else and want to air your feelings and work it out…

Maybe you’d just like to come sit with me and see what may open to us out of the silence. The point is, as much as it may seem that preaching on Sunday is What/All Ministers Do, my deepest call is to support you as individuals and families when you are struggling. Troubles don’t keep business hours. Just call.




Dear Ones,

Greetings from fair Brewster on Cape Cod Bay where I have been reeling in inspiration for the congregational year that takes off this September 10th with our 7th annual Homecoming Sunday service. On that morning, don’t forget to bring some water in a small container (maybe a cup or two, but could be less). This can be water you collected from some distant sea or river or glacier or lake you loved on your travels this summer. It could be water from our own long island water-ways and -bodies. It could be water from a neighborhood puddle or from your tap or from Splish Splash or your own pool. Wherever you find it, water is the fluid through which Earth circulates the nutrients we need to live. In all indigenous traditions water is held sacred, cherished and protected. And water is the substance we share in this year’s Homecoming communion. Bring yours to our confluence on the green outside our sanctuary windows the Sunday after Labor Day. Wear clothes the color of water—blues and teals and maybe white for the rapids and whitecaps. We will be awash and a wave, drizzle and flow, a delicious cool communal sharing to start out a promising new year.

Here’s a little taste of how I’ve been spending my time during study leave (I’m in week two of four). I watched the eight-part TV documentary mini-series on Native American history that aired on PBS in 1995. Watch it yourself here.  You will come away wiser. On your courageous path into undoing racism in your life and in our world, try this: “Under Our Skin,” Seattle Times , short videos of people of various races and ethnicities defining in their own words today’s vocabulary of race and privilege. I’ve devoured the second of two books by Octavia Butler: Parable of the Talents. It is a continuation of the story of a utopian dreamer in a dystopian world that resembles ours in uncanny ways. Start with Parable of the Sower and read on. Google “Eli Saslow, ‘The White Flight of Derek Black,’ Washington Post (10/15/16) for the story of the education of a white supremacist. Fascinating and heartening. Other books: Nate Walker’s Exorcising Preaching; Paula Cole Jone’s Encounters: poems about race and identity; Robin Wall Kimmerer's, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants; and Walden and Other Writings by Henry David Thoreau (who turned 200 on 7/12). Wishing you each summer ease and joy, and I’ll see you soon,




Dear Ones,

Many workplaces and other communities recognize, if only at a folk wisdom level, some variation of the rule of three. When I was a nurse, for instance, emergencies in the nursing unit seemed often to occur in groups of three. As far as I know, there is no statistical reality behind such beliefs, but we’d nevertheless worry about who the third in a series might turn out to be, the same way nurses on the maternity unit worried about working on full moons. And of course, we always acted “as if” we were completely in charge of sanity and survival and with real confidence, invested our hearts and skills in good preventative care.

MattsCatLast Saturday (4/15), Matt’s kitty, Molly, began to signal that she was ready to die, months after diagnosis with lymphoma. She and her tortoiseshell sister, Quellie, had provided sweet companionship for Matt for more than 14 years. Matt decided he wanted to be sure to be with Molly when she died, so the Anderson-Allens took her to the vet on Monday (4/18) to assure her a peaceful and accompanied death. She was a purry-furry up to the very end. We will miss her.

MargiesUncleBillThen my uncle Bill Haynes died unexpectedly early in a hospital admission on Tuesday night (4/18). The funeral was yesterday in Monticello, GA, in a hard to get to place in the mountains south and east of Atlanta. No matter how we worked the flights (or the $$), there was no way I could make the service. My mother was the oldest of five and my uncles Bill and Charlie the two next in line, and all three are gone now (Bill is on the right in the picture). I am hoping Bill’s death will spur my growing southern family to hold a reunion soon. It’s been many years since we’ve come together. I miss them.

Yesterday morning (4/22, Earth Day) we woke to the sound of the huge 100 year-old healthy maple tree being chainsawed down in our across-the-street neighbor's yard. They erased all trace of it in 90 minutes. Even the stump is gone; even the story of that tree's life, extinguished.

Spring. Loss is hard. All our relations. Threes.




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