I love Lafayette.

Last weekend, I was scheduled to preach at First Presbyterian in Lafayette. My good friend and general partner in crime and adventures around South Louisiana, Lindsey, noticed weeks ago that the date coincided with Lafayette's Festival International de Louisiane. I can talk more about my sermon another time, but oh man. I cannot recommend Festival International enough to all of you. I would come back to visit Louisiana just for this free music fest. Wow. So good.

We were very fortunate to receive some incredible hospitality from First Pres for the weekend. We were hosted by a very sweet couple whose children are grown and moved away, so Lindsey and I had very, very comfortable beds and a key and encouragement to come and go as we pleased. We were gifted with pins, which help support the festival, and drink tickets, as well as free parking at the church. So we wandered around the festival Friday evening, all day Saturday, and even ended up sticking around Sunday afternoon for more.

The music was amazing! The whole historic downtown of Lafayette, French street names and all, was closed to traffic and full of people who were excited to hear musicians, including Cajuns from the Gulf Coast, Acadians from eastern Canada, as well as bands from Haiti and French West Africa. Announcements were made in French as well as English. The downtown is full of neat little galleries and coffee shops in old buildings. It would have been nice to walk around even if not for the great music! Speaking of which--



Bernard Adamus, from Quebec


Sweet Crude, from New Orleans


Les Hay Babies, from New Brunswick

There were so many others we enjoyed too, and for the most part, we just sat and listened to whatever was in front of us. I cannot stop listening to songs that I don't understand. I wish more than ever that I spoke French!

One of the the things I really enjoyed over the weekend was thinking about my time in South Louisiana as well as my time in Eastern Canada. I find both incredibly charming. One of my favorite provinces in Canada is New Brunswick, after the experience of getting washed out from camping and spending a night in a little fishing town on the Bay of Fundy instead. (It's probably a seven way tie for first place, but whatever.) New Brunswick is the only officially bilingual province in Canada, noticeable in signage and conversation. There are many sleepy little fishing towns down the bayou that remind me a lot of Alma and other places we ventured in that region. I like the shared history. Acadians in Canada and Cajuns in Louisiana kind of continued on the same trajectory, sticking to fishing and speaking French. I suspect the Cajuns use a little more spice in their food (thanks to heavy influences that create the cultural gumbo that is South Louisiana), and Louisiana focuses more on crawfish and shrimp while eastern Canada focuses on lobster. But still. Both places are full of charming, historied culture. I really like it.

tidings of comfort and joy

Some background music for you:



Church is so important and so personal for me. It's been a really fun and interesting few years of exploring many different churches, but the truth is: I came into this season with a heavy heart.

This year has been marked with a deep sense of loss after finding that I needed to move on from both the church I grew up in and my other church home, my camp. I'm grateful for many years of many good things from both beautiful places, but find myself heartbroken and feeling homeless.

That's not to say I don't love Bayou Blue-- I love my little rural church very much, for many reasons. I also love Louisiana and New Orleans and bayou land and wetlands and trees and grasses and mucky soils, but that doesn't quite make it home. You know?

So, speaking of home. I landed in Newark last Wednesday. I am so, so, so happy to be in New Jersey (you don't know how beautiful Newark Airport and Elizabeth Seaport look until you're feeling so far away from home on so many levels, although the fresh blanket of snow and the glorious view of the Manhattan skyline complete with Freedom Tower didn't hurt, either). This may come as a shock, but I've kept pretty busy. I had a long-overdue nerve block, and after a few hours of rest, a 245ish mile roadtrip on Friday, time with Mike's family on Saturday, and another trip up north Sunday into Monday to accomplish holiday baking and soil expedition.

Not going to church right now isn't really an option in my book. Not only are we strongly encouraged to attend worship regularly as employees of the church through YAV, but I'm at a place on my own journey that requires constant attention. My solution this past Sunday was to attend worship at the church I was baptized in up in Montclair. It worked out very well-- I was welcomed very warmly as soon as it was mentioned that I'm a Spain, and my great aunt was there. It was especially good to be with her, as it was the first anniversary of Uncle Fred's passing. We went to a Christmas hymn sing before church together, where the carol "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" stuck out at me because of the tidings of comfort and joy part.

What am I taking comfort in right now? I am blessed beyond measure. I have an awesome family and am marrying into one equally as great. I have incredible friends. I have work that I enjoy. I have amazing adventures to places I never imagined I'd see. I have good health, now greatly improved by that nerve block and getting off the high dose of pain medicine that has fogged my brain for the past seven months.

My brain might be clear of tramadol but is definitely bogged down by something else. Being a sort of gypsy is exciting and fun in many ways, but I do miss having a home. There are no easy answers with this stuff, and I didn't have a good solution for tonight, so I went to the church I grew up in. I was thankful that a few of my friends were attending the late service, which made it a little less painful to sit out of choir for the first time in at least 20 years. I stopped by the choir room to visit and say hello to old friends, who voted by cheering that I get a robe and join them, but I couldn't do it. I needed a little distance. Funny, how I'm feeling sad because I feel so far away, and yet I need some separation too.



I love the themes of Advent. Hope, Peace, Joy, Love. While I'm not feeling especially peaceful this Christmas, I am definitely grateful for the many ways that the others manifest themselves in my life. Reuniting with loved ones. Remembering my way all over NJ. Walking without limping. Soil expeditions. Planning another epic Christmas dinner (creole deep fried turkey being the centerpiece). Gearing up for more adventures-- Utah and Arizona in the next week, New Jersey again in February, and of course all over South Louisiana.

I have great hopes that all of these things will settle out in time. It's just a heavy weight to carry meanwhile.

Wishing you a very happy, hopeful, peaceful, joyful and loving Christmas.

out of the fog

It's hard to remember that it's December when it's still pretty consistently warm enough for t-shirts. I mean, it only just became fall, like yesterday, when a cold front dropped the temperature by 40 degrees and dropped about 1/4 of the cypress leaves:


At home, I usually have my Christmas concert to snap me out of November mode (I love Thanksgiving!), but the weather and the fact that my work has been quiet for the past week or so has really kept me in this foggy bubble with little regard for the upcoming holidays.

Then it was actually really foggy this morning out in bayou land. Visibility approximately 50 feet:


And this at 11:30 or so was a vast improvement over the conditions when I drove out to Bayou Blue before 8AM. 

I decided to combat this oblivious aloofness by listening to Christmas music all day. I'm not usually one for songs about Santa, but this one added a little boogie to my ride home from the bayou and a little Advent into my heart:



Wishing you and your loved ones peace and joy this Christmas season.

Ewe Thina

Ewe Thina. The audio is of the 2013-2014 YAVs singing at orientation! I love this song.

The third verse made me think of this picture I took in Malawi in 2010, so I laid it over the whole song.

The Sabi Star tree, also called Impala Lily, grows in eastern and southern Africa. It flowers in the winter, the coolest and driest part of the year. It blooms under the harshest conditions.




I've never especially liked the color pink, but this has been the background on my computer since I came home from Malawi. It's a good reminder to always try to bloom under adversity.

I thought it was an appropriate match to not only the song, but the group singing it.

House.

My mom left this morning after a wonderful, whirlwind three day visit. We wandered around the French Quarter, took a trip out to New Orleans East to see Bayou Sauvage, tried on wedding dresses, ate lots of southern Louisiana food (including vegetarian jambalaya (!!!) for me and a lot of different seafood for her), and volunteered at Program of Hope.

We also thoroughly enjoyed the music and legacy of Professor Longhair. (!!!!!) I discovered his music in college-- better late than never. A friend put "Big Chief" on a mix for my birthday one year, and I have walked this earth nearly every day since with that piano riff stuck in my head.



Mom discovered his music on Thursday night when I took her to Fess Fest at Tipitina's, featuring Hugh Laurie and Joe Jackson and many other very, very talented individuals (including a group of high school students with some serious chops). Better later than neverer!


"There are at least 100 people in this room and 10,000 in this city who can do this better than me. Well, *!@# 'em. I got here first." -Hugh Laurie

Seriously, amazing concert. Every musician, every song was just awesome. It's a little disorienting at first to hear Hugh Laurie speak with his native English accent rather than his very well faked-for-TV New Jersey one, but he is a fantastic host and a talented musician. It was very clear to the room that for him, playing Fess's music at Tipitina's was a boyhood dream realized. I love seeing musicians who are just elated to be playing.

Something else cool about the concert: proceeds went to the Tipitina's Foundation, which supports the preservation of Louisiana's incredible music culture. They run a lot of education programs for youth, but they're also partnered with Project Homecoming, where three of my housemates work, to restore the house that Fess lived in, where his daughter and grandson were living until Katrina wrecked it. By this spring, they'll be back in the house, with some renovated space to live in, some renovated space to rent out and some renovated space to serve as a Fess museum. I'm really excited about that this will all be completed while I'm still in New Orleans to see it.

In the meantime, Mom and I decided to go see it as it is now, especially because my housemate Anna Leigh is one of the people working on the house, and could stop and give us a tour. It's coming along great, and they were able to save and refurbish some of the original pieces, including a few windows and the brickwork of the fireplaces. Touring everyone else's job placements the first day I was in New Orleans, I saw a big mantle and his front door sitting in storage over at the Project Homecoming headquarters, waiting to be fixed up and put back where they belong. Kind of cool.





It's exciting to see things being rebuilt. It's also really exciting to take part in it in some small way (so selfless, buying that ticket to hear Hugh Laurie play Professor Longhair's song. What a sacrifice.). (I'm hoping to go in with Anna Leigh sometime soon and lend a hand on one of my days off, too.) It's very cool to see the full circle of things.

This isn't from Tipitina's this week, but it'll do:

Presbyterian Women

This weekend is the Presbyterian Women's retreat at Feliciana Retreat Center. I've now been there three out of the nine weekends I've been in Louisiana. The theme was hymns. I love those. We kind of talked about me being involved with the music a little bit, but it turns out, I'm straight up leading it. All of it.

I do specialize in flying by the seat of my pants. Many thanks to my housemate Kalyn for lending me her guitar this weekend. While there aren't pictures, I assure you the ukulele also most definitely made an appearance.


Someone ELSE brought up Guide My Feet, so this happened:






I also found out, with approximately 24 hours' notice, that I would be leading a session on youth and music. So the flying by the seat of my pants went a step further. I managed to prepare a bunch of songs and explain how I routinely convince Jr. High kids to sing, and talk about how we're all technically children of God, so we can all share music. My presentation went something like this:

minus the Katie Brendler and the purple jumpsuit. The purple jumpsuit did not come to Louisiana.

We also enjoyed high tea! We even let a man join us (the retreat leader's husband).



Me, snarky? Never.



I'm actually pretty pleased with my hat, but I have no idea what to do with it now, as I don't generally attend tea parties.



Originally it was going to be my placement supervisor and two other women from Bayou Blue and I, but Kris is recovering from some major hip problems and couldn't handle the car ride. I drove her back from New Orleans, where she'd been stuck all week at a friend's house, unable to drive, and then took her car, a Prius, to Feliciana with the other two women. Driving a Prius is like driving a computer at first, but I wasn't disappointed to arrive 120 miles north having gotten about 50mpg. Here, Miss Jennie, Miss Vicky and I represent Bayou Blue.


 Pleasant weekend. The weather has been glorious-- but still most definitely not fall...

There are planets you don't know and there are moons that you don't see

While we probably all well know that I am a big, big fan of Mr. Ritter's, this is not a song I am usually drawn to. It was in my head during this morning's pre-dawn commute under a very full moon...

Last month's full moon coincided with a rather big storm that we're only beginning to truly understand the scale of. A full moon high tide is responsible for minor flooding on a regular basis, even without winds and rain. I remember thinking about this going into the storm. Sitting down to lunch with the state climatologist a couple of weeks after the storm, he argued that the first high tide as Sandy and the full moon approached probably saved a lot of lives, scaring people off the islands as the water rose quickly well in advance of the actual storm. We all know that the various unprecedented factors of Sandy-- her size, her record breaking low pressure, her exceptional path, her combination with the second major storm front, her making landfall in the most densely populated part of the country, and of course that full moon-- made a serious impact on our landscape and our lives in the region.

New Jersey (and New York) won't be the same. The damages in NJ are almost as costly as the state's operating budget for the next year*. Trying to wrap one's mind around how much has changed is its own challenge. Trying to stay positive in light of many complicated questions about the rebuilding process is its own challenge. Trying to focus on other aspects of life and not be totally overwhelmed mourning the places and memories of my childhood is its own challenge. This has not been easy.

But then, there's this month's full moon. Many towns are still struggling with the aftermath and destruction of what happened under the last full moon, but the one I saw this morning on my drive to William Paterson was stunning and bright, and under this month's full moon, there was some joy. Julie and Matt welcomed baby Ryan to the world. Babies are neat, because they come without a care for things like hurricane damage or how the world around his has changed drastically since his childhood, because his childhood is ahead of him. He just gets to hang out and be loved. How peaceful and wonderful is that?

So, this morning, I'm thinking about the month between these full moons, and taking comfort in the little things, the good things, that come out of times like these. Life moves on, and today, that's a pretty reassuring thought. Welcome to the world, little one!



Edited to add--
*of course this has already been updated. After weeks of keeping numbers quiet, the initial cost of damages was released as being over $29 billion, which is nearly the $31.4ish billion budget for NJ for the next fiscal year. A revised number was released today: $36.8 billion.

counting the cars on the New Jersey turnpike but not with that song

Last night, I drove my dear friend and former office mate Irene to the airport. She's heading home to Venezuela for the holidays. I know it's strange, but I enjoy airport runs, especially at odd hours. Hardly anyone was on the road, and I had a very peaceful drive.

I know there's a section of Turnpike that smells terrible followed immediately by a section of the Turnpike that looks pretty terrible, and I often complain that this is a large part of why so many people hate New Jersey. However, once past the smell tonight heading northbound, I kind of enjoyed the lit up skyline and the shadows of Newark Airport and Elizabeth Seaport. I don't necessarily find it beautiful, but it's what I see when I fly home.

The jazz station in Newark kept me company for most of the way (good range in the overnight!) and then I was fortunate enough that my CD player was warmed up and in a good mood for the drive back to Toms River. Since my CD player only works when it feels like it, my Tag Out mix was still in and I enjoyed it immensely on my drive back south.

1. Bon Iver: Woods- appropriately peaceful and interesting
2. DeVotchka: All the Sand in All the Sea- The part that always gets me? Leaving my Walden, or whatever other amazing places I've found myself in life.
3. Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes: 40 Day Dream- "Yeah, I know I'm sleeping, 'cause this dream's too amazing."
4. Dawes: When My Time Comes- I've thought about it for hours but still don't know what to say about this song. It needed to be here.
5. Donovan Frankenreiter: Heading Home- Yes I was. Am. I like to think I'm on a constant journey for home.
6. Talking Heads: Once in a Lifetime- "You may ask yourself, where does that highway go to?" Yes, yes I do. All the time.
7. OK Go: This Too Shall Pass- such a positive, hopeful song.
8. Bill Withers: Let it Be- I'm picky about my Beatles covers, but this one passes the test and takes a lovely song and puts it in a very positive, upbeat setting
9. Josh Ritter: Long Shadows- I'm not afraid of the dark, we've been here before... just as figurative as it is literal for me.
10. Eels: Fresh Feeling- reminding me it's time for something fresh
11. Florence + the Machine: Cosmic Love- I missed this during staff training, but it meant so much to everyone around me, especially someone in particular who means so much to me (that little sister I acquired, Abi)
12. Old Crow Medicine Show: Wagon Wheel- the opening line "Headin' down south to the land of the pines" was geographically correct for the journey this was intended for (and many of my mini-roadtrips), plus was reminiscent of Noah and Diana singing it all summer, most notably during Licepocalypse
13. Loudon Wainwright III: The Swimming Song- Noah's choice, the opening song for the summer 2011 slideshow, and a very nice illustration of much that I do
14. Bruno Mars: Count on Me- Courtney's choice for the staff slideshow, which I initially whined about (come ON, Bruno Mars?) but was really happy with how perfectly it fit the situation
15. Josh Ritter: Lantern- my choice for the slideshow, a song I absolutely love for its positive words and sound, and how it uses a lantern as a love symbol when a lantern is a symbol of so many other wonderful things in my life
16. Dispatch: Out Loud- except I have the original Bang Bang acoustic version which I can't seem to find online... this closed the slideshow
17. The Low Anthem: The Horizon is a Beltway- It is a beltway, or some other road to somewhere... hopefully with better traffic than the Beltway I frequent the most (the one around D.C.)

I arrived home just in time for sunrise, but I decided to enjoy dawn from the bay in Island Heights, instead of by the ocean, just for something different.

Tree of the day: the pretty little holly tree growing next to the post office that I sat next to for the sunrise. It seems seasonally appropriate.



Good morning from the Jersey shore.