Sunday, October 5, 2025

Dear Talmadge Hill Family,

This week marks my first month here at Talmadge Hill, and I am so grateful to sojourn among you. The initial transition and onboarding phase are now complete, and I look forward to deepening my work and continuing to learn from your stories and experiences.

The interesting contrast throughout this professional and geographic change has been the tension between my genuine excitement for this new calling and the surprising increase in my own internal anxiety. I have come to understand this not as a personal failing, but as a completely normal human response to transition: our brains are wired to keep us safe, and they do that by preferring the known over the unknown. When everything around us is new—new routines, new rhythms, new sights—our brains interpret that ambiguity as a kind of threat. Our bodies respond with anxiety, restlessness, and even exhaustion. Add to that the sheer number of decisions and adjustments that come with any significant move or change, and it's no wonder we feel tired or on edge as we navigate this "in-between" psychological space.

This journey of understanding how the process of change affects me helps me realize how change affects all of us. Our Talmadge Hill community has undergone significant change over the past year. Carter's retirement brought with it the grief of a ministry era that began with Mich—a season still mourned and celebrated more than six years after his passing. We stand now at the end of something profound, wondering what's next and how we will move forward. And here's the paradox: our instinct is to work harder, to do more, to prove we're okay. But we are being called to something counterintuitive.

This is not the time for business as usual. This is not the season to rush into big new initiatives or to demonstrate that everything is fine. Grief and anxiety cannot be managed away through busyness. This is a time to step back, to breathe, to honor what has ended, and to notice what we're feeling and what's shifting beneath the surface.

Nature herself is teaching us this lesson. As we mark the beginning of October, autumn is truly here with its invitation to slow down and let go. The trees release their leaves not as an act of loss, but as preparation for new life. They teach us that letting go is not abandonment—it is faithfulness to the rhythm of transformation.

Throughout October, our worship will walk alongside this season of letting go and liminal space:

  • This Sunday (October 5): We mark St. Francis Day with Cheryl preaching on Genesis 1:20-31 in her sermon titled "The Friendly Beasts." Sunday's worship also coincides with World Communion Sunday, symbolizing the oneness of believers in Christ despite differences in tradition, language, and liturgy.

  • October 12: We gather for a Service of Poetry followed by The 7th Annual Mich Zeman Poetry Fest—a beautiful way to honor memory while making space for what wants to emerge.

  • October 19: We contemplate our Mission and Justice outreach to children through the ecumenical celebration of Children's Sabbath.

  • October 26: We reflect on our own identity within the Reformed tradition at Talmadge Hill as we observe Reformation Sunday—a day that itself commemorates profound letting go and courageous reformation. We will make time in worship for you to name your losses and reflect on your feelings.

This is a time to let go—not of our faith or our mission, but of the pressure to keep everything exactly as it was. To release our grip on the familiar just enough to make room to rediscover our identity and open ourselves to what God might be inviting us toward. To grieve fully so we can eventually hope fully.

This past week, I've been intentionally establishing new rhythms for myself: working out regularly, meeting with a counselor, and building friendships here in Stamford. These practices are helping me navigate my own anxiety and grief as I ground myself in this new chapter of my life here at Talmadge Hill.

So here is my invitation—not just for this week, but for this season:

  1. Name what this change has stirred in you. Where do you feel it? In your body? In your emotions? In your prayers or in your silence? What are you grieving? What makes you anxious? What small spark of hope are you afraid to acknowledge?

  2. Share your story with someone. Don't carry this transition alone. Let it be witnessed! Tell a friend over coffee. Write it in your journal. Verbally say it in prayer.

  3. Practice one small act of letting go. What old pattern, expectation, or way of being is no longer serving you or this community? What might it feel like to release your grip, even just a little?

  4. Bring what you've discovered to worship on October 26. On Reformation Sunday, we will create space together to name our losses and practice letting go as a community—just as the Reformers did centuries ago when they released what no longer served the Gospel.

Let's give ourselves—and each other—permission to be in this threshold space. To feel what we're feeling. To grieve what needs grieving. To let go of what needs to be released. And to trust that God is present with us, especially when the ground feels unsteady.

Please join us this month in worship as we intentionally reflect on our grief, our anxieties, and what we are being called to release. Your presence and participation are not just welcomed, but vital and make a significant difference. We need you with us on this journey.

With gratitude and hope,

Mooi loop,

Dries

Sunday, September 28, 2025

Dear Talmadge Hill Family,   

I am filled with joy and gratitude for this time away, joining Beth and our children to celebrate our son's wedding. As I wrote last week, blending a family brings both beautiful complexities and rewarding challenges. This weekend's celebration reminded me that when one of our children gets married, our family circle expands. Their love ripples outward, drawing new people into relationship with us.

This joyful experience has me contemplating the parable of Lazarus and the rich man from Luke 16:19-31, which we will explore together this Sunday in a sermon titled "Between the Gate and the Table." While celebrating this wedding, I was struck by how the loving posture a family creates can offer a space of welcome. Yet, it doesn't automatically guarantee that everyone experiences true belonging. Love alone isn't sufficient to bind us together in our fractured world; it requires the intentional, sacred work of moving people from outside the gate to a cherished place at the table.

Grace Lee Boggs reminds us that "We never know how our small activities will affect others through the invisible fabric of our connectedness. In this exquisitely connected world, it's never a question of 'critical mass.' It's always about critical connections." The rich man in Jesus' parable possessed a critical mass of wealth, status, and abundance. Still, he lacked the vital connections that could have transformed Lazarus from a fixture by his gate into a beloved family member at his table.

As we navigate our own season of transition and growth at Talmadge Hill, what does it mean for us to move beyond 'welcome' to 'belonging'? How do we continue cultivating the critical connections that deepen our community—one where everyone feels valued, heard, and truly at home?

I look forward to seeing you on Sunday as we explore these questions together. Your insights and experiences enrich our collective understanding as we seek to deepen our practice of extravagant hospitality and belonging through vulnerability.

Mooi Loop,
Dries   

Sunday, September 21, 2025

Dear Talmadge Hill Family,   

This week, I am in Minnesota to officiate at the wedding of my stepson, Harrison Wood, and Alayna Gifford. For Beth and me, this moment feels especially meaningful given our journey together as a blended family.

Harrison and I have navigated our share of challenges over the years as we have worked to build trust and understanding. Family blending is not always smooth, and we have had our moments of struggle. Yet, through it all, I am deeply grateful for how our relationship has been forged into a stronger and more resilient bond. This journey has taught me so much about how a deeper connection can emerge from moments of struggle. It is a parallel to a congregation's interim time, reminding us that everything cannot be solved immediately and that transition takes time.

Thank you for graciously allowing me this time away, especially so soon after I began my ministry here. The wedding date was set long before I knew where I would be serving this September, and your understanding and support are invaluable to me. Beth and I are so looking forward to being with all of our five children this weekend: her three from a previous marriage and our two boys, whom we adopted together from Ethiopia.

While I am away, you are in excellent hands with our guest preacher, The Reverend Dr. Daniel Lee. Dr. Lee brings a unique perspective, being both a fourth-generation Presbyterian minister and a third-generation concert violinist. He currently teaches baroque performance practice at Yale University and has served congregations across Connecticut, Missouri, New Jersey, and New York. He beautifully explores how arts and spirituality intersect to inspire harmony in our communities, something I know will resonate with many of you.

I look forward to returning to Talmadge Hill next week and will be attending the Bible study on Thursday morning, September 25th, and co-leading worship on Sunday, September 28th.

Mooi Loop,

Dries 

Sunday, September 14, 2025

Dear Talmadge Hill Family,

The photo of Rob and me in Happenings, taken this week, holds profound significance. It symbolizes the diverse seasons of Talmadge Hill's journey, with each of us representing a unique phase, yet sharing this sacred space.

The flower arrangement you created on Sunday, which now graces my apartment, continues to fill me with awe. These are the very blooms you brought forward during communion, each of you selecting one that resonated with you and placing it in the vase. Their vibrant colors and varied textures are a testament to the beauty that emerges when we bring our differences together—a reflection of the divine among us, as I mentioned in Sunday's worship. Each bloom is exquisite in its own right, but together they form a stunning bouquet, a powerful symbol of our unity in diversity, each of us a unique and essential part of the Talmadge Hill Community.

This Sunday, in my sermon titled "Both/And: When Stories Coexist in God's Grace," we will delve into Luke 15:1-10, and this photo with Rob, me, and the flowers perfectly encapsulates our focus during this interim time on non-dualism—moving beyond either/or to embrace both/and. In interim seasons, contemplating non-dualistic thinking becomes especially important, as it helps us live into God's economy of generosity. This perspective enables us to realize that the old and the new can coexist, allowing us to live fully in the present while honoring and learning from the past and imagining a future filled with possibility. As Richard Rohr eloquently puts it, "nondual consciousness is a much more holistic knowing, where your mind, heart, soul, and senses are open and receptive to the moment just as it is, which allows you to love things in themselves and as themselves.

Join us in worship on Sunday as we discover together how God delights in bringing the separated back into wholeness—whether lost sheep, lost coins, or the beautiful integration that makes authentic community possible.

Mooi Loop,

Dries

Sunday, September 7, 2025

Dear Talmadge Hill Family,

This Sunday marks the beginning of our interim journey together, and I am deeply grateful to be serving as your Interim Pastor.

When I first encountered the Talmadge Hill Community Church’s profile a year ago, I wasn't in a position to apply for your installed pastor search. Yet something about Talmadge Hill lingered with me: how you describe yourselves as a community that creates sacred space through wholehearted engagement, courageously meeting people in those tender places we often hesitate to acknowledge.

Earlier this year, as my ministry in Saratoga Springs was drawing to a close, I was seeking a new position. When I learned that Talmadge Hill had shifted its search from an installed pastor to an interim pastor position, I felt a deep sense of possibility. Here was an opportunity to serve a community that had already resonated deeply within me and captured my imagination. Through my conversations with Lisa, Patrice, and Russ, I began to glimpse the remarkable spirit of this simple sanctuary nestled in the wooded beauty between Darien and New Canaan, where its simplicity holds such profound beauty.

What deeply moves me is witnessing a church where vulnerability becomes a wellspring of strength rather than weakness, where authenticity nurtures safety rather than judgment. You have cultivated a community that values spiritual connection over rigid doctrines, understanding that transformation flourishes when we dare to be our most authentic selves and walk alongside one another on life's sacred journey.

Your mission to "Know the Love of God and Share It" is rooted in extravagant hospitality and a willingness to embrace life's paradoxes. Here, belonging to community and serving one another and the world around us becomes a joyful response to God's love. You understand that simplicity, both physical and spiritual, cuts through life's distractions to focus on authentic relationships with God and one another.

I am looking forward to meeting you in person this Sunday. As we cultivate relationships, please know that it will take me a little while to learn all your names and make all the connections. With that in mind, please don't hesitate to introduce yourselves and even reintroduce yourselves so that I can connect with you and hear your unique stories. And if I ask your name more than once, please don't be offended!

As we begin this new chapter, it feels significant that our first Sunday together is Homecoming Sunday. In many ways, I am coming home to a spiritual family. Together, we will hold the present moment while honoring the past and embracing the future with hope and courage. I invite you to join us in worship on Sunday, whether you've been part of Talmadge Hill for years, haven't been here for some time, or are considering visiting for the very first time.

With gratitude and excitement! 

Mooi Loop,

Dries

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