The title I was given when I transitioned into a full-time position here was Director of Programming and Development, and while my work has evolved, and the title doesn’t always seem to quite convey the scope of my role, I have often joked that it means I cook up cockamamie schemes, and figure out how to bring them to life.
It’s how we ended up with a disco ball in the fellowship hall that really, as it turns out, is everything we never knew we always needed.
Before I ever worked here, though, I was a member. I joined UCG in February of 2012, after only attending two Christmas Eve services.
When I’m asked how I found UCG, I usually say something like, I didn’t grow up in a church, but I really wanted Millie to grow up in an open and loving community, to see all kinds of families, to meet good people doing good work, together. And that is true – but it’s a sanitized version of the truth that I often feel is more fit for public consumption. I don’t often share how we really found our way here. My UCG Story. We all have one – they are as varied as the ways in which we know God – and while it may not resonate as deeply as some of the incredible stories we’ve heard through our Recollections video series, this one is mine.
It was December 2010, and we were preparing for our first Christmas as a family. Millie was only 3 months old at the time – a precious, darlin’ infant, adorable in her little Christmas dresses and footie pajamas. My parents had just moved here from West Virginia a few months before, to be here in time for Millie’s arrival, and it was the first time in almost 15 years my whole family lived in the same state. It was supposed to be a joyful time, and I know I was dearly blessed with my perfect baby girl, but I mostly felt defeated.
For the entirety of my pregnancy, my dad had been serving a sentence for his third DUI, first in jail and then on house arrest, and I actually had to write a letter to his judge asking for his early release so he could be present for the birth of his first, and only, grandchild. My parents had offered to move to Florida to care for Millie when I returned to my job at the Visitors’ Bureau, where I was a Special Projects Manager, and my then-husband and I marveled at the prospect of free childcare. I only had one condition – that my dad stayed sober around the baby.
He was intoxicated when they arrived on moving day, and again when they came to meet Millie at the hospital. But we’d made no other arrangements for childcare – and I wanted to believe in them – so when my first day back to work arrived six weeks later, I dropped her off and hoped for the best.
By that afternoon, my dad had taken a drunken tumble and fractured his neck. He survived the fall, but before the week was out, Millie was enrolled in one of the few daycares in town that would accept newborns at the time. It was $820 a month we had not budgeted, and when our first Christmas as a family arrived, I was heartbroken. And also, just…broke. It wasn’t at all what I’d imagined my first few months of motherhood would look like. Even though I barely went to church when I was little, and even though Mike and I had never gone to church together, I so wanted to reframe my perspective about what really mattered, to feel connected to something magical and hopeful, and to have something else to believe in. So, I started looking for a Christmas Eve service that was family-friendly and I found UCG. It was the only church we visited, and the only church I’ve ever been a member of.
I couldn’t attend my New Member Sunday- I was home with a feverish toddler who had just caught the latest daycare bug. But I had nine amazing months with Larry and Sandy before they retired. It didn’t feel particularly easy to integrate into the community; I remember feeling out of place on our first all-church retreat when I took baby Millie to the all-ages drum circle and was asked to stick with a toy drum and save the nice ones for the grownups. We left the retreat early. I was happy enough to just attend services and listen to the wisdom of Vince (Amlin) and Andy (Bachmann). But after Shelly’s (Wilson) first sermon here and participating in the congregational vote for her to join us, I felt more at home. And so, I started getting more involved, teaching in the Pre-K class and serving on the Board of Children, Youth and Families. I was invited to join the retreat committee 10 years ago, to serve as the family liaison, and retreat quickly became my favorite thing that we do as a church family. I have been involved with retreat in some capacity ever since – first as family liaison, then as the youth coordinator, and now, as director of programming, the primary organizer.
I LOVE retreat. The property itself feels like holy ground, and it is, having welcomed us just as we are, following our ejection from Lake Yale for being open and affirming. Time passes differently on retreat, and so many tiny miracles have happened for me on retreat. A writing workshop with Sandy where I wrote a piece that ended up published in the Gainesville Sun. Yoga classes in the chapel overlooking the lake. Watching eagles soar and listening to Jeremy’s terrible…I mean, hilarious, jokes. Reading The Alchemist in a hammock while Millie was safe in the free, and yet, priceless childcare.
As my role in retreat has evolved and I have taken on more responsibility in its delivery, it has become even more meaningful for me. I’ve exchanged hammock reading and candlelight communion for rowdy fireside chats with our teenagers and the unexpected challenges of streaming Gator basketball in a conference room with poor reception, and all of the changes and challenges are a small price to pay for the lakeside sunrises, the late night dance parties, the ice cream socials, and the conversations that unfold in rocking chairs. It is precious to me, as it is for so many among us. Whether it’s someone’s 40th or their first, it is magical every time, each in its own way. And the most magical part of all, for me now, is serving in a role that brings that magic to life. To watch the connections form, the friendships bloom. To craft this sacred ritual for all of you. But of course, I cannot do it alone.
This year’s retreat is scheduled for May 1-3. The theme is “Come What May.” Rev. Donna, Rev. Talia and I have been convening and scheming to put forth a weekend of wonder for all to enjoy. But it is, most certainly, a more enriching experience when it’s a group effort. So I invite you to consider what you might offer to this year’s retreat. It’s not too late to share ideas or offer a workshop. Your contributions are what make each retreat so memorable.
Whatever unknowns we have yet to meet, however the weekend unfolds, I look forward to sharing this time in community with you…Come what may.
With love,
Tami