In Summary

I’ve been in Cheltenham for 68 days now.   That means only 63 days left. 

 

I can’t believe it.  It’s gone by so fast.

In honor of the fact that I have now passed the half way mark (and here it would be good to note that I’m Way past the half way mark for weeks of classes—There’s only two and a half weeks left, excluding exam week), I’ve decided to write a blog of summarization.

Here goes—

While in England I have visited: Bath, London, Gloucester, Tewkesbury, Stonehenge, Portsmouth, Bristol, Birmingham, Oxford, and Stratford.  I’ve seen dozens of absolutely stunning Cathedrals, Abbeys, and Churches.  I’ve gone on quite a few tours.  I’ve visited quite a few shops.  I’ve bought way too many postcards.  I’ve been to a bona fide British football match and seen a performance by the Royal Shakespeare Company (King Lear).  I’ve walked at least a hundred miles (completely not exaggerating) and there’ve been many times I’ve come home soggy, damp, or absolutely soaked to the skin (but never too upset about it). 

I’ve explored the countryside around Cheltenham and Prestbury.  I watched the spring sneak up on the land and I noticed when the lambs first appeared.  I’ve decided that English birdsong is more beautiful than American birdsong and that there are very few places on earth as vibrantly green as the UK.  

I had “Christmas dinner” with my flatmates and celebrated more than a couple of birthdays.  I’ve made friends with students from the Christian Union and found a home church—St. Matt’s—filled with sweet people.  I’ve learned that the longest amount of time the kitchen will remain clean (i.e. look slightly better than a war zone) is about five hours tops—and I’ve learned to deal with it.  I’ve locked myself out.  I’ve made it through two Regency Hall fire alarms without having a heart attack.  I’ve drunk numerous cups of tea.

I’ve been to (on average) four classes a week.  I’ve written four big papers and a few smaller ones.  I’m celebrating the fact that Easter break is four weeks long, and trying not to stress over the fact I have no idea what to expect from my three exams which are worth half my grade. 

I’ve found that, on the whole, English people are incredibly nice with a pretty wry sense of humor. 

In summary: I’ve fallen in love with England.  

Places of Importance

Yesterday was another little adventure.  (There’s actually been quite a few that I haven’t blogged about, but I’ve been doing homework these last few weeks—amazing, right?—so I haven’t really been in the mood to write more than what’s going to be graded.)  Yesterday we took a BCA trip to Blenheim Palace, and from there, to Oxford.

The Palace was astounding because, I have to admit that I wasn’t really expecting to see a palace.  A mansion, yes.  A palace, no.  The Dukes of Marlborough have been living here for eleven generations (give or take).  Winston Churchill was born here during a party in a guest bedroom that was being used as a cloakroom.  (I never would have guessed that Churchill had long blond ringlets as a child.  It makes me look at him in a different light.)  Also, it was in the Blenheim gardens that he proposed to his wife.  The gardens—well!  I’d forgotten how beautiful the grounds surrounding castles/palaces could be.  There were huge man-made lakes, fountains, cascades, arboretums, fields of daffodils, and miles of walks.  It was gorgeous.   I would have been happy to set up my tent and live outside—forget the palace.

From Blenheim we took our coach to Oxford.  Wow—Oxford was crazier than London.  Smaller, but just as bustling.  Their traffic system seemed to need some work.  It just didn’t flow all that well.  Maybe that’s why people bike everywhere.  It’s a miracle that I didn’t get run over.  I guess it must be proof that I’m becoming slightly more city-savvy.

In Oxford, I saw the Oxford Castle (didn’t know they had a castle), the covered market, college after college after college—all of them beautiful, and the Radcliffe camera (still not sure what it was, but it’s famous!  How completely awfully stereotypically touristy).  I saw lots of students packing up their parent’s cars to go home for the Easter break (yes, already!  Their terms are only eight weeks long.)  I saw many attractive young men (attractive and brilliant—my search is narrowed down immensely.  Now all I need to ensure is that they follow Christ and are taller than me…).  I saw Christchurch and some of the staircases where they film Harry Potter scenes.  The great hall dining room is also at Christchurch, but it was closed for parent/student goodbye lunch.  Good thing I’m not a HP junkie or this would have been Tragic.  

All in all, another amazing day.  I love that there’s an infinite number of day trips from Cheltenham! 

As It Were, It's a Bit Like Heaven

It is Wednesday.  I am tired.  I’ve had three cups of coffee today, so the fact that I am tired doesn’t seem quite right.  (Can I have four cups without impairing my health?  What about five…?  Is this an addiction?)  I haven’t even done all that much schoolwork.  I did have to sit though an entire class on Byron, however.  Byron.  Sometimes I am envious of the way he gets to be extremely cynical and overly-dramatic and self-pitying in such a creative manner that people love him despite his faults.  Other times I just have no patience.   Whiny and childish.  Oh please give it a rest.

My tutor in the Byron class has a favorite phrase.  (I love those overused favorite phrases/words of my tutors, professors, or teachers.  Every time they pop up, I smile.  It makes class a little more interesting.)  This particular tutor always says: “As it were”.  As it were, what?  “And Byron, as it were, thinking that life ended with the tomb, though despairing…”

Yesterday I went for a three hour walk up that big hill again.  The entire top of the hill is designated “the Prestbury Reserve”.  I wish I could describe it with justice—I already tried and failed.  The best I can do is to say it was exactly what I hope heaven is like (minus the two huge telephone poles).

Up there, the horizons play with your mind.  People strolling in the distance look like they’re walking on the edge of the world.  There’s nothing behind them but hazy blue.  When you get to the crest where they had been, you realize that it's not an edge, but the brim of a slope from which you can see miles of wild grass crisscrossed with paths of greener grass.  There are little shrubby trees in clumps.  There are taller trees in groves.  There are trees on the edges of true precipices that have been bent in right degree angles because of the constant wind.

The wind is nice—it’s enough to fill your ears and to make your hair get wispy and go all over the place, but it’s not difficult to walk into.  It’s enough to make you feel alone, but not lonely.  It’s the kind of a wind that you could imagine God in.  (Am I the only person who feels God in the wind?  That sounds very Pocahontas-esque.)  Sometimes when you walk down a slope, the wind instantly stops, then there’s silence. 

There’s sheep on the top of one knoll (yes, a knoll), and behind them is a town I’ve never seen before.  I can see the tower of a church.  There’s cows in a valley.  There's a rider on a dark horse.   There's a wriggly black lab that wants to be friends.  There's a crunchy apple to be munched...

If this sounds too perfect, it can’t be helped, because it’s all true. 

What a precious gift of a morning.

Not Quite for the Faint of Heart

After what was nearly a two week traveling hiatus, yesterday I walked out the door and hit up Bristol.   

Got to take a train!  Discovered the ruins of three or four ancient abbeys/churches/etc.   Ate at Pizza Express (which is actually a pretty nice restaurant, despite the name). Walked along the historic dockside path with a slice of chocolate-orange sponge cake in hand.  Climbed the hill and found our way through the labyrinth of twisting streets in-between the mismatched pastel-colored Bristonian houses (orange, yellow, maroon, blue, green, white—so pretty!).  Had a dream come true: A young man came to assist us in the pouring rain.  He saw we weren’t sure where we were going, so he walked with us for five minutes in order to show us how to get to the suspension bridge (his name was Peter).  Walked across the suspension bridge that spans the river Avon—it’s incredibly high up.  Like, so high up I got dizzy looking down.  Wondered at how beautiful everything looked in the rainy mist.  Chatted with two friendly visitor-center guides.  Walked about an hour back to the train station (by this time absolutely drenched).  After some difficulty, some crowding, and some (very) slight drying of articles of clothing we made it back to Cheltenham.  

This was definitely the most adventurous adventure I’ve had yet.  Not quite for the faint of heart.  

On the home front, I’ve just been working on papers (two done, I just started the third, two to go!).  God has really been pulling at my heart.  It’s quite soft at this point in time.  I pray that He uses this time of softness to change me before I revert back to my customary stiffness.  There’s SO much room for improvement in my life and I just want so badly to “be better”.  But I know that I can only become more of a blessing to Him as I learn to love Him more—to enjoy Him more—to glorify Him more and desire to share His glory with others. ..  I can’t change on my own.  I can only strive while in His love—and striving must always give way to quiet abiding.  Lots of difficult concepts, none of which I’ve got down pat.  

A Hundred (Give or Take) Little Things...

I am Thankful for all the little things that, when added together, make up a pretty wonderful life.

I am thankful for: little English children with their little English accents; the joy that comes from making people laugh (even when it’s at your expense); when bad things are brought into the sunlight and transform into good things.

I am thankful for: movies—even crappy ones; for artistic ability; for discernment; for strength of character; for the absolutely insane species known as the college-age student; for the girl selling produce who not only graciously forgave me for calling pounds dollars, but who told me that she loved America. 

I am thankful for America; for England; for heated essays on social justice and human rights; for seagulls, for muddy dogs, for wild flowers, and giant doves, and the white mansion on the hill; for abbeys, and graveyards, and pastures; for emotions; for relationships; for trying to figure things out and for not knowing; for waiting and hoping and praying.

I am thankful for: completed rough drafts; feelings of accomplishment; runs in the park; not getting run over by cars; English pancakes (i.e. crepes) and crumpets!; letters; "real meals" successfully cooked; clean sheets; easy-sneezy group presentations; new dresses; having to walk a mile to buy flax-seed.

I am thankful for: sisters (one in particular) and brothers; for moms (or mums) and dads and cousins, and aunts and uncles, and grandparents; for the fact that people we once knew nothing about can become family; for friends, new and old, trusted and gaining trust.

I am thankful for the opportunity to love, to listen, and to do that little thing that might make it on someone else’s list of little things for which they are thankful.

A Lot in One Weekend

(Disclaimer: I am kind of out of it.  Hope this is readable…)

First of all: Friday was my birthday and I am now 20. 

Second of all: Saturday all the BCA-ers left Cheltenham to go on a weekend coach trip.  We hit up Stonehenge, Winchester, and Portsmouth. 

                Here are some highlights:

-It was sunny at Stonehenge and the country around it was beautiful.  The significance of the ancient stones didn’t escape me (we had a whole lecture on their history), but I think that once you’ve done the henge, you don’t really need to do it again.  Unless you’ve somehow lost your pictures.  Then you should go back.

-Winchester is the home of the Great Hall with the legendary round table of King Arthur (not the actual table—if there ever was an actual table—but one on which centuries ago someone painted the names of all the knights ).  The visit was exceptionally neat because all around the hall were set up 40 individual speakers.  From each speaker came the voices of one or two singers.  When they all sang together it was like we were surrounded by a choir.  It was hauntingly gorgeous.

-When we got to Portsmouth I had my first look at the English sea.  Portsmouth has long been one of the England’s major naval bases—I LOVE the navy.  I love the ocean.  I love the history and the salt and the sailor men.  I really liked Portsmouth—I might have loved it had it not been raining and windy and freezing our second day there.  We got to have a tour on the HMS Victory, which was Horatio Nelson’s ship—the one on which he was shot by a French sniper and died during the Battle of Trafalgar.   I stood on the spot where he was hit.  I almost got shivers.  I’m such a history nerd.  I saw all the little claustrophobic hammocks (800 + men on one ship), the hundreds of cannons, deck after deck after deck, I didn’t hit my head on any of the low beams.  I wish I could have taken pictures, but we weren’t allowed (maybe because the Victory is still part of the Queen’s fleet?).

-Lots of girl talk with Emily, Janet, Chrissy, Michelle, and Abi.  Chocolate cake three nights in a row!  Sunset over the ocean.  South African food.  Rugby.  TV. Coffeeeeee!

Third of all: I am back home and hard at work on my next paper.  Augh.  Bring it on.

Last Week at a Glance

Since my last post I have been…doing homework (believe it or not—lots of reading for my first Islam assignment); making stir-fry; traveling to Tewkesbury (the most adorable little town I’ve ever seen, right on the river Sevren); getting my ear pierced again (the more earrings I can wear at one time, the better); eating brownies and drinking coffee at an Inn built in the 16^th century; wandering around Norman abbeys and old cemeteries; walking the streets of Prestbury and finding that this little town is truly my happy place; being buffeted by wind for three days straight (my hair will never ever come untangled); grocery shopping; eating communal chili; visiting my first bona fide English home; taking naps; experiencing intense internal gloominess; praying fervently and having these prayers answered; cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry, trying to manage without a vacuum; having strange dreams (a few of them having to do with leaking toilets—will I never stop worrying about that?); assisting certain tall, dark, and handsome delivery men; coming to grips with the fact that our flat kitchen will look like a disaster zone 85% of the time; hiking to the top of large hills, and from there being able to see for miles; learning to sleep through whatever shenanigans might be occurring in the hall; making English friends; reading Paradise Lost till it comes out of my ears; watching Horatio Hornblower with Abi and discussing the merits of real men; trying to buy rugby tickets; giving little old ladies and their grandsons directions; attending English birthday parties (with pizza and jim!); finding my way about the rabbit warren of a library; abiding in Christ and trying not to strive or struggle so much but just relax!

(Photo courtesy of Courtney Simonds, my walking buddy, because I can Never remember my camera, or to charge the battery, or the battery itself.)