First Year: An Ode to Alaska

Nearly nine years ago, Jane and I moved to North Pole, Alaska (along with our two sons and our dog, Oreo) to serve as interim pastor at the North Pole Missionary Chapel. It was an adventure we never imagined would happen, and we were scared enough to be judged sane.

Half way through the year I found myself in Cordova, a small but historic fishing village south and east of Valdez, accessible only by air or water. It was January. It was wonderful: boats in the harbor, gentle rain, snow-covered mountains around, moss and evergreen to color my walks through town. While there I found this poem in my heart to say something of what the year was meaning to us. We are very grateful for the blessings of being here in this wonderful place and with the wonderful people who have received us as family.

I hope you may feel with me the happy joy we discovered to grow year by year.

First Year

First year, new home;
Mystery, puzzle, wonder.

People here, but not.
Houses somewhere in the trees.
Summer garage sales, selling out;

bargains passed around again.
Here and there the homes that were;
wished for, now gone.
Beginnings ended too soon.

Downtown feels old with new places, new people;
inviting, different, winsome, strong.
“Distance comes with the place,” they say.
“We'll know you soon, but hold you loose.
Little lost if soon gone.”
I feel it without knowing.
More leave than stay. Their loss.

The roots of some –
not slowed by frost or gravel –
go down to deeper things:
Freedom of place and space.
Rigor calling forth vigor.
Boundless boundaries speaking verdant hope –
the landscape not mute.
The eyes hear this happiness,
the soul knows well the speech
and dares to shout, to rest, to stay.

How to know the snow and birch and boreal;
mountain, sun, and hidden road;
runway, slough, and bitter cold –
would steal into the heart and find a welcome?