Since moving to LA five years ago, I have been up the coast, seen most of LA’s sights; been out in a lot of cool, fancy nightspots; lived on, just off, and rode my bike a lot on the Strand. I have seen all your major local sport teams live, some with you. I had the pleasure of watching my Red Sox and the Patriots win championships here against the local hometown teams. While here, I went to San Diego for the first time, hiked lots of greater LA’s trails, and dated a few local women, or “California girls,” as the song describes them. I have visited many of the museums, and…well…none of that compares to my time here at Pacific Unitarian.
You all have made my time at Pacific Unitarian – or, before Tara raps my knuckles in correction, “Pacific Unitarian” – meaningful. Most of the memories that will last are of you all and this place.
It all began with me standing in the pulpit for the first time during my “Candidating Week.” It was a beautiful day, and the goats that keep the brush down were over on the hill across the street looked like sheep. I remember thinking, “What kind of Shangri-La is this? Of course I am going to say yes.”
I remember having a great conversation with Janet Kissner on the ride north to my preaching tryout in Canoga Park. She, of course, cried. I might have then, too. I think I’ve got a little Kissner in me.
I have spent the last month saying goodbye, and always, thankfully, both you and I seem to want one more moment. Thanks for making my going so hard.
So, to all of you, I have received your kind, truly heartfelt words in a card, or accompanied by a handshake or a hug, or both. A few of you have even given me gifts. Although I am not generally one for too much sentimentality, every one of these acts, and you, in my last month or so here as your minister, feels precious.
To all of you, thanks for reminding me what matters.
You have made my time at Pacific Unitarian one of the most valuable things I have ever done. I have been to 26 different countries, climbed a few mountains, have nearly written a book, and have half-finished a movie. All are second fiddle in my mind to being able to say I was the minister of you and this church. I don’t know exactly what lies ahead, but I want you to know that: I am and will be proud to have been your minister.
As Jewell has reminded me, taking down all the images on my door will be hard. I think it will be the last thing I do. I took this photo as a keepsake and tribute.
Love,
Steve
