Alaska's motto is "North to the Future."
Since I'm new to Alaska and working on being in a posture of learning----nope, it's still a bit hokey. :) But really, it does speak to the sense of hope that I hear from a lot of people when they speak of that yearning to move up here (whether it was 2 years or 35 years ago). I keep thinking, Wow, these people have such gumption and courage! I'm amazed by their stories of the future they hoped for in moving up here.
Someone told me recently that I am brave for moving up here; not the first time I heard it but this time it stuck in a deeper way. I keep pointing to people in amazement in that they moved here with dreams about what they could be here share that similar perspective of my own yearning for what Alaska will transform in me.
What has it been like my first month living in a small town of Alaska? These thoughts have no order or reason to them, other than my random reflections.
The first thing I keep realizing is how well planned it has been to move during the end of winter, beginning of spring time. I got to settle in with fresh snow and now the days are relatively long (6:30am sunrise, 9pm sunset). The way the town and mountains change every day because of snow melting is astounding.
The birds here are so awesome. One bird's call sounds like a dog woofing, which really confused me for a few moments. Another bird makes a sound similar a drop of water falling. Yesterday, I saw this gorgeously blue and black bird that stopped me in my tracks for a bit. I'm still hoping for more eagle spotings; my eye isn't trained to be constantly on the look out for them yet.
A family in this 3,500 people town of Valdez decided to let their bunnies go free around town, which quickly has turned into a town-wide bunny fest. There are three that live underneath my home and they often like to be underneath my car when I'm attempting to leave (no bunny injuries yet). This is a controversial topic: there are factions of people who believe the bunnies are cute and factions that believe that the bunnies would be dinner if it wasn't illegal to hunt within city limits.
Small towns make any social outing very efficient. A run to the post office could involve an impromptu meeting with someone you were meaning to contact or a person who really needs a moment to chat. Attending a local nonprofit event could involve conversing with the mayor, hospital administrator, and town judge all within two hours. This is heaven for introverts who would rather have their outside of home time be as useful as possible.
For the amount of people who love the outdoors here, it's surprising how quiet the trails are. I've been exploring various hiking/ski trails around town and most often, I am the only one. It's easy to feel the wide open space here.
A posture of accepting gifts is important in this town of generous people. The time that people have taken to get to know me (teaching me how to ski!!) and understand my likes and needs (dietary needs in particular) has been astounding.
Anyone who thinks that you can't be a foodie (or find good produce) in small town Alaska is not aware of Valdez and the powers of our local co-op coffeeshop/restaurant/grocery store (unabashed plug for Rogue's Garden). One of my new favorites is a sweet potato crust quiche made with coconut milk, created by my now go-to foodie church member.
I am actively working hard to not jump into being on 4+ nonprofit boards; there is much need for people who are passionate to step into leadership roles. This need for people outweighs the red tape involved in volunteering. The other day I walked into the local food bank to get a tour and understand how it's managed and was put right to work (with proper food handling instructions, of course). I kept thinking: "In the Bay Area, I would be on a volunteer waitlist and most likely have taken a 3 hour training before doing any of this work." Training is important, yes, but wow it was cool to step quickly into a volunteer role.
Google doesn't work here. I was headed out to catch a meeting and saw via Google that the place I was headed is a 40 minute drive into the canyon. Luckily, I am connected enough that I knew who to call and say, "Uhhhh is this building really in the middle of a mountain pass?" The spot I actually needed to be was a 2 minute or 10 minute walk away (which is pretty similar to anywhere I need to go in Valdez).
My breezy trip to the DMV (no appointment) on a Friday during lunchtime was 27 minutes long and involved taking a written test, filling out a new license form, registering to vote, and an eye exam. If the gorgeous mountains don't make you envious, that alone will tip the scales.
This adjustment from Berkeley to Valdez is not smooth by any means; the cultural shifts continue to show up for me in tiny and large ways. It's interesting to note the visceral reactions people have when they hear I'm coming from Berkeley; there is rarely a neutral reaction.
It hurts that I need to have my sink dripping water in order to keep the pipes from freezing. Recycling costs to much to ship out to Anchorage, so while you can put glass and paper into recycling bins at the dump, they often get mixed into the trash. Composting is another controversial topic: some people compost in their yards in town and others who live in the woods compost, but the bear safety people in town note how dangerous it is as it attracts bears and keeps them coming back (rotting food is just so enticing).
The mountains continue to leave me with wonder and awe.
The ministry here for me as a pastor is more amazing that I can begin to describe and I'm so dang grateful to be walking with these people.
I feel immensely showered with love and care from my family and friends who have been reaching out with calls, texts, care packages, and letters in this transition time. This is more helpful than you can imagine. Love, love, love to you all.
All of these thoughts are jumbling together as I continue to build this life here. Here's to more settling. Here's to Nick moving here this week! :)
