Do You Ever....

Do you ever have those moments in life that are symbolic of a whole era?

For example....in my highly romantic late teens/early twenties I often read poetry.
In a bubble bath.
By candlelight.
Once, I splashed upon an amazing poem while soaking in my parents home. I began reading it aloud. I was so caught up in it's imagery and beauty that I was shocked back to earth by a knock on the door. I was also shocked by the fact that I was standing naked, dripping wet, on top of the toilet. Beauty transports and transcends apparently. I rallied only enough to murmur, "Yes?"
My dad's voice, "Is everything okay?"
"Yes."

That moment symbolized a whole stage of my life that was impulsive and lyrical and sweet. And I recognized it for what it was and tucked it away to remember always.

And so today, again, a moment packed with symbolism. An era defined in 5 minutes.

My day was a battle, and like a pro I attacked whatever came at me with enthusiasm, barely identifying it before laying it low. Mondays are kinda like that, only the fittest make it to Tuesday unscathed.

So I was down to my hour of afternoon-school with Rowan and Rose. I lit into Bible and geography and impoverished people groups. No problems, no tears. Moving onto science. Alright, an experiment comparing the saliva of Rowan and his dog. Okay, wooden collection thingy in one hand Petri dish in the other.
"Open up Rowan."
Done. Troop outside to find Gypsy.
Gypsy?
We head down to Mom's, thinking maybe she got out of the gate down there. We march down the street onto the sidewalk of a busy road calling for the dog.
At that moment it was as if someone knocked on the door.
I took inventory.
I had on yoga pants and perhaps an apron. I had nothing on my face except a thick layer of aloe vera and my glasses. I was walking up a busy street carrying a Petri dish in one hand and a wooden collection thingy in the other. I was followed by several children.
Mad scientist?
Pied Piper leading with a Petri dish?
Escaped home-school mom?
All of the above?

And I recognized it for what it was. A moment that defines my life right now. Leading, yelling, laughing. Looking for something I can't find. Holding something hilarious in my hands.
I tucked it away to remember always.

I went home and put on make-up and a neighbor brought Gypsy home.
I met Gyp on the porch with a wooden collection thingy in my hand.
I annihilated the science experiment with a deft swipe and went in to brown the beef.

Playing Country

When Dave and I were first married I used to sing while I flipped his pancakes in the morning.
It was a little ditty that went something like this:

"Well I've got me a fine wife,
I've got an old fiddle,
When the sun's comin up I've got cakes on the griddle,
Life ain't nothin but a funny, funny riddle,
Thank God I'm a country girl"

It was supposed to be "country boy" but that obviously didn't work in soprano.
We lived in a one bedroom apartment in a big city at the time, but I had a good imagination and overalls were in style.

The ditty turned out to be prophetic.
When we're up at the cottage, harvesting pears, hauling firewood, eating outdoors on the island, I really feel like a country girl raising a family of bumpkins.

Note my muck boots, that I love like kin.

 

 

We came back home from a beautiful weekend of outside living and we got to work. There was school and laundry to be done. I had applesauce to can and pears to slice and dry. But as I worked, I smiled, because I heard Rosy singing.........

 

"Thank God I'm a country girl!"

 

I wonder when overalls are going to come back in style?

 

 

PS You'd know I'm not really a country girl if you went inside the cottage. Country is great, as long as it doesn't interfere with my decorating.

 



 

Scotland

A friend reminded me today of a story that I began in the church foyer several weeks ago, I was interrupted in the middle of it, and it was left dangling, glinting in the memory with the allure of the unknown, unresolved. A half-told story is an appealing thing. And yet, my friend, correctly surmised that that is an analogy of life right now, an interrupted story, a thing of interest half-told.
Morning comes and the story I begin here is interrupted a dozen times over, but I know it will get told eventually. So I persist in the telling, I take the detours, but I always come back to the story in the end. And in the meantime, it glistens in the atmosphere of our day, a tantalizing reminder to my children that someone cares enough about them to persist in the story.
So despite the fact that summer has ended and the ceaseless rains puddle deep, despite the fact that we have transitioned into school and activities with a surprising resemblance to a Tasmanian Devil, despite the fact that I'm driving my time without a spare, I'd still like to finish my story of our journey this July.
So I will. At least until I'm interrupted.

We drove out of London up to Edinburgh, Scotland. "Drove" is such an easy word to write. But WOW! try driving on the wrong side of the road, in the wrong side of the car, on round-a-bouts with just under a dozen exits, and you have a panic attack waiting to happen.
Once we got out of London, we were okay. That's a little like writing "once we got out of the bear's den we were fine." We had enough mess-ups to stretch our 6 hour car ride into a 8+ hour car ride. Fun is truly not the word.
Anyway.
Once we got to Edinburgh, we lived it up.

St. Giles Cathedral

Edinburgh Castle



Mary Queen of Scots bath house. Love the idea of a separate, multi-storied house to bathe in.

Some monument to something.

Grant wants it documented that there was lots of loose change in this park.

Gotta love the bagpipes.

Sir Walter Scott's monument, one of Scotland's famous authors.

We ended up coming home with a reindeer hide and an Icelandic sheep hide.

Avonlea is carrying the aforesaid hides in this picture. Note the cobblestone streets and phone booths. Disregard the Subway sandwich shop.

Another angle of Edinburgh Castle.

Rosy and I in front of some happy houses.

Hanging out. On a canon.

We spent quite a bit of time on this canon for some reason.

This is the castle draw-bridge, going over the moat.



We only stayed in Scotland for two days, but we thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. This is a picture of the country-side as we drove to Capernwray from Edinburgh. Can you see the lambies? See the tombstones?

I feel like Scotland itself is a story half-told, because I want to go back.

And this journey is still only half told because I have to go to bed.

But it's pleasant to have the unwritten words still dangle alluringly in the future.....

I'll leave you with a picture of a monument that they only got half way finished before they ran out of money. The Scottish people decided they liked it the way it was....there was something tantalizing in the very half-finishedness of it....

A Hit and It's Ramifications

I believe I left off writing our journey when we were on the cusp of Scotland.
I haven't been able to pick up the thread,
because I'm wobbly.
Once, many years ago when my grandpa died I said something like this,
"Grandparents are like chair legs, you don't even think about them being there until one of them is gone and all of a sudden you're off balance." Wobbly.
Apparently friends are comparable to chair legs as well.

Rowan has been complaining of a toothache for several weeks. I've been my usual compassionate self and have said beautiful things that he'll always remember like, "Well yeah Rowan, if you don't brush your teeth for two minutes like I tell you to you're going to get cavities and the dentist is going to stick a big needle in your mouth. And I'm taking it out of your savings account, say good-bye to the dreams of Lone Ranger Legos..."

Anyway my mom finally took him and it turned out to look like an abscess. They tried to fill it for now and he came home with a huge lip and plenty of drool. My mom said the dentist asked if he had been hit in the face recently. Hmmm, does the wheel barrow full of rocks falling across his cheek at the cottage count?

Later in the day he did math and I noticed him just kinda staring into space. I went over and asked, "Rowan, are you alright?" (Insert British Accent)
He looked up, swollen and startled, and said, "I think I'm just in shock."

And I had to turn away.
Because I completely understood.
Shocked, wobbly, just kinda looking around but not really seeing anything. That's me right now.
I lost a friend, she moved away, and it's not the end of the world, and yet it is. It's the end of the world as I knew it with a loving personality at my side, who delighted in the days with me. I didn't realize that she was a chair leg when she was here. I didn't realize I depended upon her for stability. But I did.

Extractions are shocking.

In The Beginning

In the beginning there were six happy travelers going on an adventure.
One of them was yummy.

All of them were eager.

We each had a carry on suitcase and a backpack. Each of us got 3 changes of clothes plus what we were wearing. The rest of the luggage was filled with gluten-free food because we didn't really know what to expect when it came to eating in England. And because, as we ate the food we could fill the empty space with souvenirs. I'm always thinking.

So, we had a 40 minutes flight up to Seattle. Still happy, still eager.
Then a 5 and 1/2 hour flight to New Jersey. Still happy, eagerness wearing a little thin.
Then a taxi ride at midnight from New Jersey to the New York airport (can you say free tickets?). We spent the night on the floor of the New York airport. No comment.
The next morning we boarded a 7 hour flight to England. Still happy but rather drowsy. We are not on speaking terms with eager at this point.
The highlight of the flight for me was Avonlea's conversation with a woman sitting next to her. I was in front of them so I could conveniently eavesdrop.
"So why are you going to England?" asked the woman.
"Our family is going to a Bible camp."
"Oh. Have you ever read the Bible?"
"Yes."
"The whole thing?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any of it memorized?"
"Yes."
"Would you say some of it for me?"
I waited in anticipation to see what verse Avonlea would choose. I was a little shocked to hear her begin quoting the book of Phillipians.
Avonlea told me later that the woman started losing interest after the first chapter so she stopped.!!!

By the time we got to London it was 11pm. We got a taxi to our hotel. We were all more or less just relived to be there and waiting nothing more than a BED.
We were trying to check into our hotel but there was some confusion.
Finally a man who looked uneasy (to put it mildly) came out to tell us that they had overbooked.
There was no room in the inn.
My children were sprawled out on the lobby floor (tile). I was exhausted and starving and not happy at all.
Not happy. Not eager. Not.

The staff apologized profusely and packed us off in another taxi to a hotel on the other side of London. We fell onto beds and slept for 11 hours. I was awakened by the phone in my room saying the taxi from the other hotel was coming for us and our room there was ready.

Luckily we hadn't taken anything off so we could basically roll out of bed and into the taxi.

 So we began, 3 days after we had left home, our adventures in England.
And we were happy. And eager.

And one of us was yummy.

Are You Alright?

England has several speech things that are different from ours.
For example....
Instead of asking "How are you?" they ask "Are you alright?"
Now, in America, "Are you alright?" is asked when someone is choking, or tripping, or they just look ill.
You can imagine how I felt then being asked numerous times, in succession, if I was alright.
At first I just nodded and smiled apprehensively.
Then I examined myself thoroughly to see what the heck was giving everyone concern.
Then I turned to Dave and said, "What's the matter with me??!!"
He was as puzzled as I was.
But after several days we figured it out by having our children explain it to us.
They picked things up quicker than we did.
Especially the accent. Here's what it sounded like to be asked if you were alright.

Dave figured out himself that people in England say "pardon" rather than excuse me.
He said "excuse me" trying to get through a store aisle and people parted like the red sea trying to get away from him. Apparently he just announced that he had gas.

Speaking of gas, I had the first time experience of having to pay to use the restroom. Traveling with FOUR children can get very expensive if you have to pay every time someone has to go.

People in England also say "brilliant" and "lovely" as opposed to "cool" or "awesome" or whatever kids say nowadays. At first I thought the people I was talking to thought that I was brilliant and lovely and it boosted my self esteem considerably especially after the "are you alright" incident, but no, it was just slang. Sigh.

One night at Capernwray, the staff decided to do a song and sing it like different nationalities. When they got to how the Americans sing it, they said, "Now we have to exaggerate all the movements because Americans think that everything in America is bigger and better."
Oh really.
The next day the kids asked me what that was all about. I told them, "Well, they were making fun of us, acting like we think everything in our country is bigger and better than any other country."
Grant looked at me across the table and said, "It is."
Apparently I am raising a stereotype. With blond hair and blue eyes.

Anyway, we were amazed at how even though we speak the same language, it was so hard sometimes to understand the British, the Scottish, and the Irish. We resorted to smiling and nodding ALOT and just silently prayed to God that they wouldn't ask us any questions that we'd have to try and decipher.

Like...

"Are you alright?"

My thoughts in London at 4am

Half a world and half a lifetime away can't really be called a vacation.
It was a journey.
Dave and I took our four children back to where we met 19 years ago; Capernwray Bible College in England.

The goodness of God drenched this trip. His mercy brought some hard things in ourselves to light, things that obviously needed European exposure to be revealed. But we also saw some gifts with new eyes.

The second night in London I woke up at 1am, completely rested and ready to start the day. So did all the children. Jet lag. They all climbed in our bed and had yogurt and pretzels and cookies. We talked and laughed for two hours. After I re-tucked them in at 3am I laid awake thinking for another 2 hours.

This is what I thought.
When I was 19 I came to London utterly alone. Insecure. Unsure. Unloved.
Through amazing, devastating, miraculous circumstances God turned all that around.
Now, I didn't just go to Bible college and meet Dave. That would have been too easy. I met someone else who asked me to do life with him, who offered to fill the void of my soul. I said yes.
But God said no, He wanted that job.
And like Jacob, I wrestled determined.
God won.
"I will inspire them to fear me, so that they will never turn away from me." (Jer. 32:40b)
God's continued to win in my life even though I often continued to wrestle.
Then slowly I learned that God's wins, were actually my wins also.
That the places of battle turned into fountains of blessing in my life.
Simplistic to write, but difficult to go through, and incredible to think about at 4am in London.

But the reality was that I came back to London 19 years later with a husband who absolutely loves me, children that love Jesus, and I am still growing and walking with the Lord. All this is absolute Grace. Undeserved. My life is not perfect, I have many glaring flaws, but God continues to engage me where I'm at. Incredible.

We were gone for over 3 weeks. We visited, London, Edinburgh, Scotland, the lake district (Capernwray), and New York. We have more stories and saw more sights than I could possible relay. They will come out slowly over the next weeks, winding their way through my thoughts and finding a destination here. But today, I just wanted to post a few pictures and say that God is good, and if you doubt that, tell Him. Wrestle it out with Him. He'll win, and what you thought was a vacation will turn into a life journey.

Scotland

Capernwray

London

New York