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When Reverend Mitra returned to serve as interim minister at Grosse Pointe Unitarian in the fall of 2023, she discerned that a mission was needed to give shape and focus to her service. Mitra had previously served as our minister earlier in the church’s history. Many were grateful that she was once again available to guide us during a transitional time. From the pulpit, Mitra often spoke candidly about matters of health and human dignity. She also recognized the importance of a clear, visible witness to the broader community. Thus, she resolved that Grosse Pointe Unitarian would place two signs on the church lawn: “Trans people are loved here.” “Queer people are loved here.” The act required more than words. It required tools. One Sunday, Mitra was seen walking through the building searching for a mallet. When none could be found, she went to a hardware store and bought one. The installation of the signs was briefly delayed, but on November 12, 2023, after coffee hour, parishioners gathered with Mitra on the lawn to set the signs in place. The signs quickly became a visible symbol. One local fine art painter, passing by on Maumee Avenue, told me she noticed them every time and felt drawn to visit the church because of them. To this day, the signs remain on the lawn, bearing their steady witness. On Mitra’s last Sunday with us, the service was filled with music, gratitude, and reflection. As part of her final sermon, she brought two objects to the pulpit. First, a packed roller suitcase. Second—revealed later—a mallet. The very mallet she had purchased to pound in the signposts. Mitra made a request to the congregation: someone would need to take up the mallet, to keep the posts firm against the push of frost and weather. The St. John family—Valerie and Jen—volunteered. This was especially meaningful as Jen St. John had recently been admitted to seminary. Our board of directors voted to sponsor Jen for ordination as a Unitarian Universalist minister. On Sunday, August 24, 2025, the St. Johns gathered on the church lawn to fulfill their promise. Photos show the family driving the posts back into place, ensuring the signs would stand through the winter. When spring comes, the congregation will surely revisit the signs again, renewed in spirit and commitment. The mallet itself now carries a story: of witness, of continuity, and of love. 
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 I offered a watercolor paint party as part of the Tropical Island–themed auction. My benefactor and partner organized today’s gathering at the Annex, the event center of Grosse Pointe Unitarian. She arrived with an indoor picnic that felt like an artwork in itself — sandwiches from a little deli near the big lake in St. Clair Shores, crisp dill pickles, cider and donuts, and a bright bottle of piquant white wine. Paint-and-sip parties may be the rage, but we all chose the cider and donuts.
Now, as the afternoon fades, I find myself replaying the hours with quiet delight. About seven of us gathered in the Annex. We sat around a round table and talked — about ourselves, our creative leanings, and our shared affection for free thinking. Without much coaxing, we moved over to the table set with watercolor paper, brushes, and trays of color. My plan was simple: invite everyone to make a small postcard-sized study, something quick and free. What happened surprised me. The participants loved the small format. A few ventured to the 9x12 sheets, but most found joy within the frame of the postcard. Two hours passed easily. Laughter, color, and conversation filled the room. When it was time to pack up, everyone left with a little palette of paint — squeezed fresh from the tubes — and the glow of having made something of their own. I really did very little. I set out paper and brushes, said a few words about keeping them clean, and then stepped back to let creativity take over. That’s the secret, I think — to offer a space, a few materials, and permission to begin. My partner gave me a ride home just ahead of the rain. The storm came in with bluster and promise, and now I’m on the porch, dry under a good roof, grateful for the day. I wish every day left me feeling this way — optimistic, connected, and quietly successful in the one thing that keeps me whole: helping others rediscover their creative light. I texted these words of gratitude to my benefactor Thanks again for being my partner in the watercolor painting party. You put your heart into it. That's why I glad all who attended loved it. Painting by my partner, Robin Ramsay |
Will Juntunen,
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