Simsbury, CT / Rachel / 2

I was in Connecticut from July 29 to August 1. Here's three sets of thoughts:

1. Go to Connecticut. 
Okay, friends. I think we forget that New England is such an adorable place. Probably because it's so far up there, so hard to get to, and because after the pilgrims and Revolutionary war, you don't learn anything about it in school. I hadn't been to the countryside of New England before, and let me just suggest that you go there as soon as you can for as long as you can. If I ever get to be a writer and nothing else, I have decided that I'd be a long-term resident of a bed & breakfast in the countryside of Maine or New Hampshire or Connecticut. Stone farmhouses and old bridges and rolling hills, or, as Anne of Green Gables said, lots of "scope for the imagination."

2. Rachel
At some shadow locations, a single event stands out to me as indicative of the character of the people I spent time with. After other locations, writing about the schedule and events we attended helps me articulate what I learned and experienced. But as I try to write about Rachel, I find myself fighting the urge to give you a live update of each minute and second I spent at her house. I think that's because every moment I spent with her felt like she was exactly at home, exactly belonging in every different type of moment.
During my time in her world, I saw Rachel fill so many roles. She was a hostess, putting together a simple, delicious evening snack when I arrived from a day in the car. She was a women's ministry director, preparing for and cooking for and administrating one of the tri-annual planning meetings. She was a pastor's wife, taking care of the girls during church when Matt was working; she was also Matt's wife, knowing him ("You forgot your wallet on the day trip to Boston, but you took how many notebooks?" "Three," he turns to me, "I mean, what if someone said something I needed to write down?") and being gracious or encouraging or funny to him—just him, Matt, the human, who happens to be a pastor. She was a mother, and she taught her girls as she brought her girls to school or the dog park or anywhere else. After this trip, the fourth time I've stayed with the mom of young kids, I think I could make a whole Summer Shadow book just about these patient, intentional mothers. Rachel was also a friend—to me and to Matt and to the church members and to everyone I saw her interact with.
More on Rachel sometime—you'll have to read the book;)—but I'm realizing that I won't be happy with such a short space to write about Rachel. 

3. Towels to Owls
As much as I want to write deep thoughts on family, or how hilarious Caroline is, or fun conversations I had with Matt, I think I'll finish on another note. On Sunday night, the five of us loaded into the car and drove to the home of their family friends. The party was called towels to owls. It began at 4, with the kids swimming (hence "towels"), and went until 10 (when it was dark, hence "owls). Around 6:30, the kids disappeared to play with a babysitter, and the adults moved to the front deck. The table was set, the menus were passed around, and the four couples (+ me!) began to dine. 
Friends. This meal was seven courses. Seven! What fun. The food was homemade, French-inspired (the couple hosting met and fell in love in France), interesting, and delicious. Each course was paired with a different wine, and there was one of those courses of palate-cleanser-frozen-sorbet like in Princess Diaries. The food was amazing; the people were even better.