The radio antennae on the pony car made in Motown had a Budweiser can perch atop to improve reception.
The young lad from California, the west coast reporting for duty for Uncle Sam at Brunswick Navel Air Station. And kindly asked by his commanding officer, a lieutenant with more stripes, bars why doesn’t he attend a Baptist church service. Which the transplant from the other coast does during a Maine winter where he arrived totally unprepared for the weather. Seriously under dressed, lacking the layers for comfort around the snow flake holidays in Maine.
And in the opening stand and turn to meet and greet your fellow pew worshipers, for the warm friendly hand extension to acknowledge, welcome those around him, he met a lady.
That shook his hand. That eventually became his wife of thirty four years to date.
He noticed her instantly, there was a connection. She, not so much the other way. He did not show up on the initial eerie green radar scan but maybe she was distracted. Thinking of preparing the heart, opening the mind and settling in for the worship message about to be preached from up front. To receive what the Holy Spirit would lay on her heart. That she would leave the building with the steeple, bell on top. Carried deep inside her.
The signal between the two percolating nicely, going both ways now strongly. Felt, fueled with a little time. Pretty obvious for anyone in the room of the couple. And her prim, proper, black and white disciplined ways the total opposite of what this somewhat lost, confused lad was wearing, showing, presenting at first.
He was a long long way from home when they first met. Crossed paths. But drawn to the young Maine gal from Lubec who has an genuine, infectious full smile of straight white teeth. All of them. And the strong, playful spirit personality. That without a lot of words spared or the need to call attention to herself. Not requiring to be the center of attention, to be seen and heard from to make a long, lasting impression.
He was her challenge.
Wild, rough around the edges she says kindly. He needed patience to be led to the Lord. And she did extend it. You can tell the bond without explanation or further details from the pair. As they sat in the Maine real estate office this week. Helping a pair of Amish southern boys that were sent to scout ahead. Look for some Maine land. An abandoned Maine farm to establish an outpost. For the move of the rest of the two families left behind waiting. Anxious to learn of progress in finding a new home with lots of land in Maine.
New people of all ages are the life blood of a small Maine community. To keep it from becoming narrow, stagnant, stalled. To open up the idea channel on how things are done in other parts. For the comparing notes, group brainstorming to make solutions happen easily. For problem areas, for the things needing to be done to square away the day to day operations that happen in the local community.
The will, passion, desire and talents or skills to pitch in and make the small Maine town shine.
To bring with them as one by one they cross the town line. What they share, add to the local stew of characters, personalities, DNA. That make the small Maine town shine, vibrant, unique. Long lasting to endure whatever storms come up in life. They say your best sparring partner is adversity. Maine, experience her four seasons, meet and greet with the people that you will never forget. Where something rubs off. You are not the same at the end of the day as you were before the connection, collaboration.