About a year and a half ago, I was one depressed woman.  This was not a biological depression–this was a situational depression.  You see, I knew that I would soon be leaving my post as the Senior Minister of the First Unitarian Church of Portland, but I had no idea what form my relational life might take after I left the church. 

I knew that I wanted to write, and I needed to leave parish ministry in order to pursue that calling–but for 17 years my community, and most of the intimacy in my life, came from my relationship with my congregants.  I had always thought that some day I would meet a man who was right for me, and we would make a home together.  But the years went by, and although I had several promising relationships, no man turned out to be the one I could settle down with.  So I continued to give myself almost wholly to my work.  There was plenty of it, to distract me from my loneliness.

As time went on, and my retirement drew closer, I gave up the idea that I would ever be partnered.  (Hey, it hadn’t happened in 17 years, had it?)  I tried to explore options that would give me companionship.  Maybe I would live in a four-plex with writers and/or social justice activists.  Maybe I would try to live communally.  Maybe I would leave Portland altogether and go somewhere else where there was a large, thriving UU church, and try to make new friends there.  I explored these options in some depth, traveling and talking to people, looking at various living situations.

And then life tossed me a surprise–I met a most amazing man!  OK, indulge me: he’s handsome, wise, funny, affectionate, and has a deep and abiding sense of integrity.  He’s also talented and strong and gives himself gladly to make his community a better place.  Our values are precisely the same.  Ditto our aesthetic sense.  Ditto our politics, etc., etc.  I know this is getting sickeningly sweet, but believe me, dear reader, it’s all true! 

I don’t mean to say it’s all sweetness and light–misunderstandings occur, as in all relationships.  But these little instances can’t touch the core–in other words, I can’t imagine living without him, and he (miraculously) feels the same way about me.  So we’re getting married on Sept. 6.

I know better than to do that “and then they lived happily ever after” thing–because I will continue to have to work on my stuff–you know, trying to be a kinder, gentler human being.  No person can do that for another.  And yet to be loved, and to love, while dealing with the vicissitudes of life–well, that’s an amazing blessing.  A small miracle, I call it.

My fiance and I talk about loss even now, at the beginning.  Both of us are old enough to know that we won’t live forever (the way all young people think they will), and that one of us will lose the other, at some point.  We know that.  And it makes every day we are given so very precious, so very sweet.  I walk in thankfulness.

Well, dear reader, I don’t know how you are experiencing your life right now.  Maybe you’re feeling a little, or a lot, desperate.  Maybe your cheer is just a show–maybe you’re whistling in the dark, as they say.  Or maybe you’ve just fallen in love.  Or fallen ill.  Or fallen into incredibly good fortune.  Or become enlightened.  I don’t know. 

But know this: you can expect only one thing in this world–you can expect that you will be surprised by life, over and over again.  So try to stay awake during your time here, and be prepared.  For whatever.