The familiar tree lined streets, coconut palms swaying with the rhythm of the day, and my beloved Gulf of Mexico the backdrop giving birth to a sweet melancholia as our impending move to Tennessee looms in the near distance.  The main thoroughfare heading due west, 5^thAvenue South, our “Main Street” if you will, inevitably runs right into the Gulf of Mexico, the journey meandering through the earth toned Mediterranean architecture of this, my adopted hometown.  Exotic vegetation such as Birds of Paradise with their orange and purple protrusions, and flowering grasses bending in the afternoon breeze, fill the planted walkways and courtyards forming a picturesque frame around this busy vehicular and pedestrian route to the beach.  In thirteen years in this adopted town, I’ve never tired of hopping in the car and making my way down 5^thAvenue, my ultimate destination the spiritual oasis of the Gulf of Mexico with it’s white sand beach, resembling powdered sugar slipping through my toes.  It’s a magical place.

The tanned bodies that are ever so prevalent in Naples belong to a stratum of people. The retired set, both wealthy and other than wealthy, laborers who toil outdoors in the elements, Golf and Tennis Professionals, avid gardeners, and the homeless. Sometimes you tan for pleasure, sometimes as a by-product of your work, and at other times the result of a cruel life.  Most regular working folk in this paradise on the Gulf aren’t tan at all, as the “9 to 5” will do that to a person.  Their working lives make the beach or pool strictly a weekend pursuit.  Our lives have fallen into the later rhythm, with just an occasional day at the beach.  My work as a Golf Professional allows me to bake to a nice medium-well six days a week, so the last thing I want to do on my day off is roast to well-done at the beach, beautiful and relaxing as it is.

Our lives here in Naples at least as year rounder’s is slowly creeping toward an end, and I’m not surprised by the heaviness of my heart.  The seeming disparity of the sadness of leaving paradise, mixed with the joy and elation of a new adventure, a new beginning, and a new environment with its own enveloping beauty, occupy my thoughts today.  Judy Garland and Eva Cassidy sand the poignant lyric from the song “Over the Rainbow”, “…and the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true”. Our daring dream was to move to Naples, and now we would like to hold onto our Florida home and return to the tropic beauty for a month or two during the harshest winter months in Tennessee. In preparation for our out of state move, I resigned from my job to tend to the myriad details of finding a place to call home in Franklin, Tennessee and getting our current home ready and packed for the migration northward.  The finality of my life here came into clear focus when I had to say goodbye to my hairstylist.  That’s how you know the move is real.  The first thing I did when I arrived in Naples thirteen years ago, even before finding a good doctor, I located a good hairdresser. My priorities were certainly in order wouldn’t you agree?  I accosted some lady on the beach that had a great haircut, but she was here on vacation, and Philadelphia is too far to go for beauty.  The next incident occurred at Whole Foods.  Never one to shy away from trying to make someone’s day, I approached a woman with hair so cool she had to be from somewhere else, a New Yorker perhaps.  You don’t see cool hair down here, what with the average age being 68 and up.  You see lots of roller sets, and tight little curly perms, no lie, and the occasional blue rinse. But cool hair on a woman of a certain age takes hairstyling skill, and I just had to know where she had her hair done.  I approached her with a longing look in my eye, and when I mentioned how stunning she looked, we were instantly simpatico.  That’s how I found my hairstylist who made me feel chic and somewhat hip for an old gal.  Will I ever be able to find a new stylist in Tennessee?

I find my days with a little extra time to saunter down 5^thAvenue enjoying my hometown “Main Street”, en route to my favorite bench under the canopy of sea oats, living at the edge of my beach. Today as I made my way toward the electric blue-green of the Gulf, that uncomfortable lump of choking tears formed in my throat.  This is our home, our town, our favorite street, our beach, our bench, our coffee shop, and our life. Thirteen years ago we had what seemed like an impossible dream to move from sullen New Jersey, with it’s bleak grayness covering everything in winter, to the vibrancy of a remarkable Southwest Florida coastal town, Naples.  We dreamed of home ownership.  We dreamed of owning a boat that would be named Sea Bella, and exploring the magnificent teeming waters surrounding the Florida peninsula.  We dreamed of rescuing a family member of the four legged, fury variety and name her Sweet Pea.  We have done it all, and lived a desperate and joyful life here.  We’ve suffered through an elongated and stupefying illness, and celebrated unspeakable moments of beauty and exhilaration.  Through it all, this place, this physical environment of God’s architecture, wonder, and magnificence has characterized our lives, but it’s not enough.  We long for community.  The vivid beauty of place which once was our hearts desire has now grown strangely dim, leaving us empty and longing.  We didn’t realize how much we were missing until we experienced God in community, real community.  My spiritual journey first had to be deconstructed before I came to the knowledge that God reveals himself in us, and to us in many ways, and through many people.  It has taken a lifetime to learn that God isn’t “other than”, and “out there”.  I prayed fervently for God to reveal Himself to us, never expecting to see the life of Jesus, thy kingdom come on earth, demonstrated in the lives of our adopted church family at GracePointe Church in Tennessee.  They live His life in a way that draws you into His warmth and envelops you.  I’ve never experienced the love of God in such a human, tangible way.  The impetus for our move is this church and this group of ordinary people living extraordinary lives of love and acceptance.  We’re constantly challenged spiritually, and refreshed anew.  We are emptied of religion and bad theology and that’s a very good thing.  When I pleaded with God to reveal Himself to us, and lead us into a knowledge of the truth, I wrongly assumed through a faulty view of God residing “out there” that He would send His spirit and overwhelm us with lightning bolts.  Never did I think we would experience the love of God revealed through the loving embrace of our GracePointe family.  We have a church and a loving group of like-minded people, forming a community to embrace everyone who is journeying through this life, and isn’t that all of us?

The familiar tree lined streets have given birth to a sweet melancholia and memories of a season of life in a tropical paradise.  The “dreams that you dare to dream really do come true” and our minds and hearts are captured with the joy of a loving and embracing community awaiting us, new dreams, and a fresh hope for a life actualized as the beloved children of God.  Goodbye Naples, hello Franklin Tennessee!