Lord Tennyson's good timing

I opened my email inbox this afternoon and found this for my poem of the day:

A Farewell
Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,
Thy tribute wave deliver:
No more by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea,
A rivulet then a river:
Nowhere by thee my steps shall be
For ever and for ever.

But here will sigh thine alder tree
And here thine aspen shiver;
And here by thee will hum the bee,
For ever and for ever.

A thousand suns will stream on thee,
A thousand moons will quiver;
But not by thee my steps shall be,
For ever and for ever.

It certainly struck a chord with me. I just walked back from High Street - I closed my bank account, bought some last minute gifts - and as I walked back, I suddenly thought, "This is the last time I'll walk down here."

I know that its possible, in fact probable, that I'll come back to visit London someday. But it won't be like walking down to High Street now. I learned several years ago that it isn't wise to try to re-live the past. So, I'm savouring all the "lasts".

Last day of work. Last Team Prayers. Last walk down the Thames. Last trip to Sainsburys. Last community lunch. Last Holy Communion.

Tomorrow will be my last morning prayers. I'm blessed that Ebby's leading it :)

The most comforting thought in all of this is that I'm small. God's work here is bigger than me. The Lee Abbey Community is bigger than me. People will still be walking up and down High Street after I go back, Reception will still run with efficiency and grace, students who live at 57-67 Lexham Gardens will still see Christ's hands and feet in action.

I'm beginning to understand what Paul was feeling when he wrote "For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

I know that I have more fights to fight and races to run, but the Lee Abbey race is finished. I have given everything I have to this race, held nothing back. Poured out. If that was the end of the story, I'd be anxious, stressed, torn - I'd need to know how everything was going to turn out here, how the new community members would settle in, how the returning residents would feel, etc. But I have never been the one in charge, the one in control here. The One who is, is still here.

So I know I'll leave in peace, as Paul left all his children in the faith; to God be the glory forever and ever!

The Last Pilgrimage

One of the most famous pilgrimages to make in England is to travel to Canterbury. Originally, people did this to visit the shrine of St. Thomas Beckett, who was murdered in his own Cathedral while Archbishop. The Canterbury Tales are the stories of a group of people making this pilgrimage.

Who am I to argue with tradition? So, my last holiday trip in England was to Canterbury - although I didn't walk. I took a bus.

I had a wonderful time wandering around the city - there are so many interesting buildings and ruins and museums to see! I met up with my esteemed colleague, Dr. Gill Watson, and she showed me some of her favorite sites and then drove me an hour away to her house in Goudhurst.

I spent a delightful two days there - we walked around the Kent countryside, picked blackberries, had traditional English cream tea (meaning afternoon tea with scones and clotted cream) at Sissinghurst, and played a couple intense games of Scrabble.

Apart from a bit of drama at the end - our picnic on the Kent coast became a picnic in the sun room when we discovered that a neighbor unwittingly blocked Gill's car in her driveway - it was a wonderfully peaceful and relaxing weekend. Kent is a beautiful part of England, I highly recommend visiting Dr. Watson!

But if you do, don't bring any dependents. I thought Olivia would enjoy a nice holiday, but as Gill kept trying to sheep-nap her to return her to "her natural habitat", I had a rather exhausting time keeping my eye on her.
The full story of the trip is in the captions of my Kent photo album.

Why, its elementary

I was soooo proud of myself on Thursday because instead of sleeping all morning before my evening shift (like I almost always do) I went out and crossed another item off my "things to do in London before I leave."

Which was visit some very dear friends at 221b Baker Street.

If you have caught the first two clues, then I'll give you a picture to help you out:
I think its one of my favorite places in London! The museum is set up to imitate as closely as possible the house of Sherlock Holmes as described by Sir Doyle in his books. It is relatively new - established in 1990. I don't know how they managed to get the building that is exactly on 221b Baker Street, but they have done an amazing job. The interior is decorated with pictures of famous criminals from the 1800s, fireplaces, pipes, and all sorts of knick-knacks belonging to the period.The old gentleman who was looking after the museum urged us to take lots of pictures and even invited us to sit in the parlor and "borrow" Dr. Watson and Mr. Holmes' caps so that we could imagine our own lives as "Consulting Detectives." The stuffed cobra in Dr. Watsons' room, however, was just a little too real for me.

The best part by far, though, were the letters that kids have written to Sherlock Holmes. I've encluded a couple of them in my photo album of the trip. They had me laughing so hard!

If you ever travel to England, I highly recommend that you put this stop on your itinerary.

Its who you know

I love having way cool and interesting friends who live all over the world. Right now, my favorite blog is Chris Collins reporting live from Baghdad. Yes, that's right - my cute little underclassman who earned mega brownie points by going to my Political Activism Club meetings and helping me organize information polls is at this moment ducking bullets out his hotel balcony and trying to look darker than the white boy that he his. Way to go, Chris!!

The Last Goodbye

I had a very crazy week to finish out July.



First, my close friend Samuel came for a visit. Secondly, two of the dearest people to me at Lee Abbey, Alice (my roommate) and Astrid, left. Thirdly, I got nailed with a pretty nasty flu.

I knew the first two would happen, but honestly I hadn't expected to get sick until the let-down after they all left. And the thought of dealing with this weekend made my head spin the week before.

The strange reality is that it was one of the best weekends I've had - and I have a huge treasure trove of memories that I hope to dig into often.

Even though I was sick and coughing and speaking through a scratchy voice most of the time, I had an absolutely amazing time with my friends before they left. I had taken holiday time, so I didn't have to work. I spent all the time I wasn't sleeping with them. Alice cooked three or four dinners - she even made a lasagne dinner only hours before she was supposed to leave and hadn't finished packing yet! I baked oodles of brownies and made an angel food cake for a goodbye worship night/party, and basically watched (rather than really helped) my roommate and Astrid pack up their year at Lee Abbey and fly off into the sunset.

<-- Saying goodbye to Alice at the airport.




I had so much peace about each one of them - Astrid, Alice, and Samuel - and the futures God had for them. However, it still hit me really hard after the last one left. I spent a whole day walking around in a Brittney-shell. Even though I had complete peace about this transition, I had no joy. For the first time since I've been here, I wished I could hop a jet and get home as fast as possible.

At first I felt a bit guilty for feeling that way - I hadn't come to Lee Abbey because of Astrid or Alice or Samuel. I had come for this higher, nobler purpose of being a community member and serving the students who live here. But then I realized that I did come for them, even I didn't know them at the time; I came to give myself wholeheartedly to the people I met here. And I did.

Lee Abbey's chapel ---->








Dr. Watson was the one who inadvertantly rescued me: I knew that in time I'd become my old self again, but it happened much sooner than I expected. Two days after the last goodbye, she gave me the two songs that she wanted to have played for her prayer service on Saturday. She gave them to me because I was her musician on-call for the day (oh, yeah, I've been learning how to play the guitar :) Because I'm still a very baby guitarist, I knew that I'd need a few hours to practice and so I took both my work breaks in the chapel, playing.

It was the second song that broke through my funk. I'll post the lyrics at the bottom of this post; take a look at them, they really don't let you wallow in self-pity or sorrowful reminiscence. I discovered that it is absolutely impossible to sing worship songs over and over again without experiencing God's true, deep joy - I found that I was able to really smile for the first time and since then my spark hasn't disappeared. God is so good, to help us gain the perspective we need!

David wrote Psalm 42 when he felt dry, thirsty, distant from God, oppressed, surrounded, hopeless; no joy to be found. And yet, he responded to God by praising him! This is the secret - and there is nothing like art and music to circumvent the barriers our mind puts up to immediately tap into God's spirit of joy and peace and love; I challenge you to try it the next time you feel like your joy is missing :)

Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?
Will you go where you don't know and never be the same?
Will you let my love be shown? Will you let my name be known,
will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name?
Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?
Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?
Will you let me answer prayer in you and you in me?

Will you let the blinded see if I but call your name?
Will you set the prisoners free and never be the same?
Will you kiss the leper clean and do such as this unseen,
and admit to what I mean in you and you in me?

Will you love the "you" you hide if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?
Will you use the faith you've found to reshape the world around,
through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?

Lord your summons echoes true when you but call my name.
Let me turn and follow you and never be the same.
In Your company I'll go where Your love and footsteps show.
Thus I'll move and live and grow in you and you in me.

Trolley and a Boat

This is coming a bit late, but is just as informative as if you read it earlier!!

First, I had a wonderful evening a couple weeks ago with Astrid and a resident from the US, Kelly - our original goal was just to take pictures pushing the trolley at Platform 9 3/4 in Kings Cross station (no explanation needed for Harry Potter fans), but we expanded the evening to walking down the Thames at night. We had a blast in the Danish fountain which shoots up streams of water in the shape of a four-square outline; the fountain randomly drops one or more of the edges of water so that you can step inside the square - the trick is not to get caught when it unexpectedly goes back up! We got a rather blurry picture of all of us inside the fountain, as well as some other great night shots of the London skyline.

On 21st July, I took one of my last journeys in England (the very last will be to Canterbury next week with Dr. Watson) - to Cambridge! I don't think Dr. Watson would have continued to be my friend if had shown myself to be so one-sided as to only visit Oxford . . .

-Just in case you didn't realize, Oxford and Cambridge are both cities within which the respective universities reside.

I went, by coach, with Alice, her friend Maria Helena, David, Luke, and three residents - Margaret (USA), Ayano (Japan), and Sylvia (Italy). Aside from one of party getting lost or disappearing, and our return bus driver selling our tickets because we weren't there 10 minutes early, we didn't have any problems :)(Pictures link here)

It had been an extremely rainy week, and looked like a rainy day; however, the weather certainly cooperated and only poured down buckets once we were happily seated for dinner in a Pizza Hut (NOT my choice of restaurant! I was outnumbered . . .)

We meandered through the town, browsed through a craft market, and got the three major punting companies to duke it out for our business (we ended up paying £6 per person to pile into a boat and be piloted down the Thames - the going individual rate was double that). We also wandered in and out of several colleges. We happened to catch Cambridge on a graduation day and saw many graduates and their families (some of which stereotypically rode in boats down the Thames in their tuxes, drinking champagne).

Overall, Cambridge had a different feel to it than Oxford. Everything in Oxford is the same old stone look - and even the new buildings are just a new sign on the same old stone. It gave Oxford a rather hallowed, sacred feel to it. Which makes for a great day trip. I'm not sure I would have liked actually living there for four years. Although Cambridge also had many old buildings, it had a broad mixture of architure from many eras and in general just felt more lived in.

I highly recommend punting down the Thames - especially if you get a cute punter from California (sorry Mom, he was a bit too green - just starting his sophomore year :)