Unexpected Adventure

 (delayed post-written last Monday)

 Yesterday was quite the unexpected adventure.  

       After having a nice lie-in (what they call a “sleep in”), I woke up to beautiful sunshine and the sound of birds chirping outside my window.  I had planned to make a treat for community that I used to make every year for my birthday and take to school for my class.  My birthday was last Wednesday (I still can’t believe I’m 23...I don’t really feel like I’m that old) but because our community decided to give up desserts for Lent, I had to wait until Sunday(yesterday) to make them (because it’s the Sabbath, we take a break from whatever “fasting” we’re doing for Lent).  As I started to prepare the simple Oreo Blizzards, (which, by the way, was a totally new concept for most people in community as many of them have never experienced the delicatessens of Dairy Queen) I realized it was going to be a bit more challenging than before.  I was able to find the few ingredients required, whipping cream, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, Oreos, and not-quite-Dixie cups, so that wasn’t the problem.  To be honest, since I haven’t had the chance to cook much this year, I haven’t had the chance to figure out measurement conversions.  They use mL or grams instead of cups, which is interesting because the conversion depends on what kind of liquid or solid ingredient you’re measuring. I spent about 15 minutes searching the whole kitchen for measuring spoons just to be told by one of the Brits that they don’t use them, they just use teaspoons, as in the spoons we use for tea.  It’s odd because I’ve always been the type of person that makes sure I get the exact measurements when I’m cooking but I actually found it rather liberating! I think I’ll be bringing my new style of cooking home with me.

So after I stuck the blizzards in the freezer, I decided it was too nice of day to just stay in so I headed to the bus stop and as I walked through the fields, I contemplated where I would go explore.  I got to the stop and saw that I was going to wait for about 25 minutes for the next bus (Sundays are not the most efficient days of traveling) but I would head to Hatfield anyways.  Hatfield is a town only about 6 1/2 miles from London Colney but the ride takes about an hour as the bus route goes through St. Albans first then over.  Hatfield is home to The Galleria, which is similar to a shopping mall, complete with nice restaurants and a cinema.  I’ve only been there few times but haven’t ever had the chance to look around so I decided I’d head there and check it out.  Well, I should’ve planned it a little better because I got there at 4:30 to find that it closes at 5:00 on Sundays.  So I did some power-walking around just to see what there was and scoped it out for the next time I go back.  As the stores all began closing their doors, I grabbed a croissant from the little Italian market and headed outside to take a walk down to the city centre and enjoy the evening sun. I walked for about a half hour to find that the city centre wasn’t as exciting as I’d hoped (no offence to Hatfield, but Sunday evenings are not exactly a hoppin’ time…the few little shops they had were all closed!) I made my way back to a bus stop to check to see when the next bus would be there.  7:18 pm….and it was only 5:30!  I didn’t exactly feel like sitting and waiting for two hours, then having to sit on the bus for another hour, so I decided I’d start walking back and enjoy the beautiful Spring evening.  Following the bus stops back, I walked and walked….and walked some more. 

I walked about 9 1/2 miles in three hours.  It was awesome.

   Before you get wound up about me walking that far alone (Mom…), I promise I took the smart route.  It was well lit, with a considerable amount of traffic. Not so much traffic it was dangerous, but enough that I wasn’t out in the wilderness all by my lonesome. There were houses or little shops lining the road almost the whole way, so it didn't seem too risky.  I asked for reassurance in my directions from three different people along the way, all of whom thought I was crazy for walking(apparently they’ve never been hiking in Montana).

   I had my ipod with me but I decided I just wanted to be left to my own thoughts.  I wanted to soak in the sights around me and see where my mind wandered from there. I cannot tell you how incredibly rejuvenating that was for me. 

As I walked, I would see certain things that looked familiar. Not familiar as in I’d seen them before(I’d only been on that road twice, and that was on a bus), but familiar as in they reminded me of things from my past.  It brought back the kinds of memories that give you goosebumps because you never thought there was another place in the world quite like it.

    The smell of woodchip and trees reminded me of the one week each summer I’d spend at Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp up by Kalispell, MT.  Those were some of the best weeks of my childhood and I started reminiscing over all the time I’d spent there and how much those experiences shaped me.  I started going through all my favorite camp songs and thought about some of the best times I had there over the years. 

     At one point I saw a mother pushing her baby in a blue pram (buggy) and the baby had wisps of blonde hair.  I couldn’t help but remember all the times my mom used to take me for walks in our blue buggy. Of course, I was quite young so I don’t really remember them firsthand, but I’ve seen lots of pictures and heard lots of stories from my mom about all the times we’d go for a walk downtown and to the parks. I can’t believe that was 23 years ago. Where has the time gone?

      As the sun started to set, I looked across a field and saw a rugby pitch, which, of course, reminded me of the two seasons of rugby I played at Concordia.  We weren’t nearly as serious about the game as they are here, but boy, we had fun. I met some of the most wonderful people through the rugby club- we had such a great time learning the sport together.

    As I stopped for a minute to look at the real rugby pitch, I saw there was a cloud of fog hanging in the distance.  My mind immediately snapped to the mountains of Wyoming, where I worked on a wagon train for two summers in high school with my brother Kyle and his wife Jodie. I learned so much in those two summers, about how to live in the wilderness and how to live simply.  We were camped out 1-2 hours up in the mountains, with no running water, no electricity, and we’d shower on the weekends when we’d go down into base camp.  The first summer I helped Jodie cook (all Dutch-oven, over-the-campfire cooking) and the second summer I was a wrangler (rode horses all day and talked with the guests). There’s something about sleeping outside all summer and waking up with a beautiful view of the Tetons right out the front door of your tent that engraves in your mind a picture of God’s beautiful Creation that you’ll never forget.  Then I started going through all my favorite country songs that Kyle used to sing around the campfire every night. And when I passed a horse pasture, I couldn't stop smiling as I started going through all the horses names I could remember(the outfit we worked for had over 300 head of horses). I can’t believe how long ago that was. Seems like just yesterday.

    Pretty soon I came to a fork in the road, but saw no road sign to help me out. I ended up asking an older couple standing outside of a pub which way would take me to London Colney. They thought I was nuts for wanting to walk that far but I assured them I needed the exercise and I was enjoying the Spring evening.  As I got to London Colney and walked the bridge that hangs over the busy motorway, I thought about how much I would’ve missed out on that day if I would’ve had a car.  Of course, I love being able to drive because it is so much more efficient. But now I can truly say I love being about to walk because it is so much more life-giving. 

   As I untied my shoelaces and emptied the pebbles from my shoes, I thought about how thankful I was for that unexpected adventure.

Two Retreats to Remember

   Last week was a week of true growth and transformation.  On Thursday we had about 35 year 13 (seniors in High School) boys come in from St. Columba's College, an all-boys school in St. Albans. That morning we were expecting 70 students and when only 35 showed up (the other 35 mysteriously became "sick" that day), we weren't sure what the day was going to bring. It ended up being one of the most open and relaxed, yet magnificently fulfilling, day retreats we've had all year.  As the young men are in the midst of exam preparations, graduation expectations, and university decisions, they seemed much in need for a day of retreat to step back and take a look at where they are, or more importantly who they are.
   We started the day in small groups, just taking some time to get to know a handful of them each, and to give them a chance to open up.  As they have all been going to school together for the past seven years, they knew each other quite well which made it rather enjoyable as they were eager to share funny, sometimes embarrassing, stories about each other with us volunteers.  Within the first five minutes of introductions in my small group, I found that I had quite a bit in common with a lot of the guys.  I told them I played rugby and bass guitar and as we went around the circle, 6 out of the 8 said they also play rugby while the other 2 said they play bass.  I was also pleasantly surprised to discover that a lot of them are also fans of my favorite show on telley, Glee. None of them had been to the States (but they all said they want to go) so they were full of questions about my life at home.

  The theme for the day was "Born to Lead" and we gave them a chance to really think and reflect about their natural gifts and abilities.  The point we wanted to get across was so powerful as it seemed to bring up so many new questions for them. It was challenging as most of the talents they found in themselves were skills that they had learned, as opposed to finding gifts that come naturally.

This is what we wanted them to understand:

    You are created in God's image.  He created each one of us for a specific purpose.  The beauty of grace is that we are not required to do anything to earn it, it is a gift and gifts are given freely.  We find ourselves in a world that is so fixed on "doing" everything, we forget about "being".  Jesus Christ came to us not to help us figure out what we are, rather he came to tell us who we were created to be: a beloved child of God.  We often try so hard to be something we're not, we try to change the way God created us, and it's in that process we lose sight of ourselves.  It's not about creating ourselves to be something greater, it's about discovering the greatness we already have.

   They took our words much more seriously than we ever expected.  We knew it was a good day for them too when we read through their evaluations and almost every one said the day was so much better than they expected and it completely changed their view of SPEC, and for some it even changed their view of Christianity itself. And, another exciting (more personal)feat- by the end of the day all the guys in my small group had found a new love for country music!  It was such a great day of laughter, relaxation, and transformation. I didn't want it to end.
   The second retreat of the week was just as powerful.  It was a Confirmation group of 31 students from St. Edmund's, a parish in London.  They arrived Friday evening and by the time they were packed up to leave Sunday afternoon, I felt so connected to them. I really didn't want to let them go home.  I don't know how much of it was our team getting that much better at working together or if it was the incredibly positive and open attitude of the young people, but it was such an incredible three days; I feel like I learned more from them then they did from us.  The energy they exemplified was unbelievable- it's not very often you can get a bunch of 14 year olds to sing a bunch of silly kids' songs while taking them for a walk around the big field at 10:00 at night.  They weren't afraid to ask the big questions ("If God exists, why do people get killed?") which, in an intriguing way, really opened my eyes to the challenges that young people from the heart of London often have to face.  

  There was one girl in particular that played a big part in this. Her name was Deborah and she had the most beautiful brown eyes and a truly brilliant smile.  In our first small group time, she sat slouched down on the couch, looking totally uninterested in what was going on. When it came to her turn to share something about herself with the group, all she said was, "My name's Deborah. I have a sister." Of course, I immediately thought to myself, "Oh boy. It's gonna be a rough weekend if she's gonna have that attitude on her.  Are you ready to defend your faith?"  I tried asking some simple questions so the group could get to know her a bit better but she replied with one word answers and couldn't be bothered to share any more detail. I had gotten the feeling she wasn't too happy she had to be here. The rest of the night I kinda kept an eye on her, just to see how she acted when we were with the rest of the large group. Of course, when she was with her other friends, she was much more chatty but I still noticed some hesitation to fully participate.  

   Just like it always happens, my own judgment slapped me in the face. (You would think I should know that by now.)  After the nightwalk, we gathered back in our small groups for night prayer.  The theme for the retreat was "Come, Follow Me" and we had decided we'd all use the same piece of scripture for prayer that night which was Matthew 7:7-12. Here's what it read.

    ⁷ “Ask and it will be given to you;

seek and you will find; 

knock and the door will be opened to you.
⁸For everyone who asks receives, 

and everyone who searches finds,
and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.

⁹Is there anyone among you who, 

if your child asks for bread, will give a stone?

¹⁰Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake?

¹¹If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, 

how much more will your Father in heaven

give good things to those who ask him!

   As I began the night prayer, I asked how many of them sometimes worry that they don't pray the "right" way or say the "right" words, to which they all raised their hand (myself included).  I explained something that I'd learned over the past few months that had completely changed my opinion about how to pray.  The thing is, there is no right or wrong way to say a prayer, as long as it comes from the heart. God doesn't care if your words make sense to anyone else, because its just between you and him and he always understands.  It doesn't have to be a eloquent speech, it should just come straight from the heart.  When I realized that it's not about the words, it's about the feeling behind them, it took away a lot of the stress I always felt when I would pray out loud. After I told this to my group, I asked them to think about what it is they were wanting to get out of the weekend, and what they were wanting to get out of their Confirmation.  As we sat in darkness and watched the single white candle burn in the middle of the circle, I played one of my favorite songs called "Never Alone" by Jim Brickman and Lady Antebellum.  I looked around the circle to see every one of them sitting there with their eyes closed, and I thought about what it was I desired for the weekend.  The song faded out and I told them we were going to pass the candle around and when it came to them, they could say a prayer about whatever was on their hearts, whatever it was they wanted to ask from God. 
  I don't know if it was because of what I said or not, but as the candle made its way around the circle and each of them said a prayer, I could tell the Spirit was moving in the room that night.  As the candle finally came to Deborah, who was sitting right next to me,  she said the most heartfelt and powerful prayer I've ever heard from a fourteen year old.  I was blown away by the emotion that she conveyed and I was overwhelmed by the presence of God within her.   

  As we ended the night and I sent them off to bed, I stayed in the room for a few minutes soaking in what had just happened.  Let's just say it was that moment that I realized God had already answered my prayer; my desire had been fulfilled. Walls were broken down.  Deborah had opened herself up to God. 
   The next two days I saw a completely different side of that girl.  She was participating more in group activities and discussions and was way more willing to share more about herself.  She was smiling almost constantly.  In the final service on Sunday afternoon, we had given everyone their Affirmation Books(something we do with every residential-they each get a little booklet that's filled with positive affirmations from everyone in their small group) and were saying final thank- yous.  The last thing we often do in the final service is a sharing of the peace, where we play a parting song and we go around hugging everyone and saying goodbye.  As I was trying to find Deborah to say my farewells, she had come up behind and grabbed me before I knew what was happening.  Words cannot explain how powerful that hug was. I felt a lump form in my throat and I had to take a deep breath to hold back tears because what she said to me next was something I will never forget.  She looked me in the eye and said, "You probably don't believe me but this has been the best weekend of my life and I don't want to leave. Thank you so much for being who you are,  I'm really going to miss you." 
   As we waved goodbye to the bus and watched them drive away, all I could think about was how grateful I am to be here and I said to myself "God is good."

Thoughts.

As I was walking back from the coffee shop day before yesterday, something caught my eye from what has become known as the "Cross Field" (named for the giant cross that was put there a few years ago for the big Christian music festival they used to have here in the summers). As I stopped at the gate, I decided go through and walk all the way up cross. The sight was utterly breathtaking.  The sun was setting just beyond the treeline, and it was hanging right behind the cross. It was the first sunny day we have had in quite awhile; I sat on one of the tree stumps and I embraced the beauty around me. The cool breeze brushed my face as I gazed up at the cross. At that moment, a flock of birds flew hurriedly out of the clump of trees that stood to the left and I watched as they fluttered right across the sky.  Not even a minute later, there came another bird from the same tree but for some reason, he flew the other direction(way to be a non-conformist, bird). I watched as he drifted away into the bright tangerine sky. I was overcome with such an array of emotions and thoughts, I sat down and pulled out my journal and scribbled it all down before I lost any of it.


    The sun is barely peeking over the horizon. Dark will be here soon. The orange circle fades away.
Time disappears so quickly.
Looking at where I am. Now.
SPEC. London. England. Earth. This is my life right now.
What does it mean to have life? What does it mean to live as if you were to die tomorrow? What does it mean to be created by God, the Almighty Creator? What does it mean to walk and serve like Jesus, the true Christ himself? What does it mean to live to your full potential?
To be what God created you to be?
What does it mean to be your own true self?
What does it mean to LIVE in the moment?
What does it mean to live in truth?
Honesty.
Determination.
Hope.
It's like the setting sun. Though the day is over, it's time to rest, it knows that tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow there will be light again.
All the darkness in the world cannot overcome one single flicker of light.
This is what it means.
To be living as a beloved child of God. Created in His image.
To be living.
       moving.
           breathing.
hoping.
     loving.
Rise up.
For today is your day.
      MOVE.
            LIVE.
               BREATHE.
embrace life.
one sunset at a time.

Though we are many, we are one.

   Last Sunday morning I found myself sitting in church and realizing just how much everything in this world really is connected.  It was the 10:00 am worship service at St. Peter's Church in London Colney and as I sat there, listening to the readings, I was overcome with a feeling of comfort and tranquility.  The first time I had gone to St. Peter's, just a few weeks before, I was blown away the moment I walked in the door.  The place felt shockingly similar to Zion Lutheran Church, my hometown church in Lewistown, Montana, where I have gone to worship since I was just a wee lass. The most friendly faces welcomed us in, shook our hands and handed us bulletins. When they called the children forward before the sermon, we watched as two little girls, the only two children at worship that morning, walked up to the front to talk with the Reverend about the idea of how we are to be salt of the earth. The hymns we sang were so familiar that I found my singing fading in and out; I was completely enjoying just listening to the familiar music. St. Peter's is Church of England and it seemed to feel closer to the type of worship I'd been raised with, it was so fascinating. After the service, they had tea and coffee and biscuits (cookies) at the back of the Sanctuary so we stayed to chat for awhile. We talked to the Reverend, Lynne Fawns, as well as several other "St. Peter's regulars" who were more than thrilled to have SPEC people joining them for church. One man told us it was always great to see some new, especially younger, faces on a early Sunday morning. Even though I'd only been there twice, I felt so at home. I couldn't believe how similar it was to my church back home. Get this: they just did some renovations in the building in the last year and the new carpet they put in is almost the exact same as the carpet in Zion's sanctuary, just a little more purple-ish.  How wild is that?!
    As I was taking in the new, yet somehow oddly familiar, surroundings, I opened the bulletin and my eyes immediately jumped to the words, "Though we are many, we are one." A ton of bricks couldn't have hit me harder.  My mind wandered (which, admittedly, tends to happen quite often during church) back to the service I went to on Christmas Eve at the Lutheran church in London.  I remember being rather surprised to realize that England has a lot of the same Christmas carols as we do, but some of them are sung to different tunes.  I will never forget when we sang "Away in a Manger" about half-way through the service.  The words were all the same but the melody was quite different (which, oddly enough, was the version my choir sang in the Concordia Christmas Concert last year).  As we were singing, I closed my eyes, just soaking in the beauty of the music and the joy that filled the air. I noticed there was one voice I could hear sticking out, singing just one beat ahead of all the rest. As I glanced around, a little boy across the aisle, in the back row, caught my eye.  He was standing tall, and one step in front of his parents, head back, eyes closed, belting out the words louder than anyone beside him, with a brilliant smile on his face. We didn't even know each other, but in that moment I felt a connection that I cannot even describe. He was singing the joy I was feeling. I couldn't stop smiling as I closed my eyes and began to sing even louder. 
      As my mind drifted away from the happiness of the holidays, I kept thinking about the feeling of "oneness".  My thoughts went back to the TFG BIG Conference that we had in Wales in January.  There was one particular part in the last worship service we had that was incredibly powerful. When it came time to pray the Lord's Prayer, David (the CEO of Time For God) invited everyone to say the prayer in their own language, as there was more than ten countries represented in the room of just over 80 people.  You could hear the murmurs of different phrases overlapping with different syllables and words. In the silence of the pauses between each line, you could hear a pin drop. It seemed as though everyone was enraptured by God's presence in the room.  Just knowing that in that moment, even though our mouths were speaking different words, our hearts were praying the same prayer. It gave me some of the biggest goosebumps I've ever had in my life.
    My thoughts returned to where I was, sitting in church.  As the Reverend sat down to the organ to play the last hymn (what a brilliant idea, eh?), I found myself smiling like a fool when I realized what song it was.  "Praise to the Lord," which I will remember forever as it was the last hymn we sung in the Concordia Christmas Concert last year.
   It would be quite an understatement to say I found church that morning to be rather enlightening. 

Never before had I understood the message so clearly:

Though we are many, we are one.