The latest photos

It's definitely time for me to post again, but I must be honest and say I don't have the energy. I've been fighting an ear infection for awhile now and it's tim for me to go to sleep.

But I did get some new photos up on Facebook and they're great, so take a look here:

Discipleship Year, Southwell Minster, Libby's Wedding and More

A Tribute to Mallory

Last Tuesday evening I was doing creative writing while meditating on Christ when I felt compelled to write the following letter to Chris and Lee Langill, Mallory's parents. I sent it off and told them no response was necessary. But Chris wrote write back to say that they'd been meaning to ask me if I'd write something to be read at Mallory's memorial service back home in Evanston, and whether they could read the letter. I was honored to be asked. Here is the letter that was read.

December 4, 2007
Dear Chris and Lee,

I am sitting in a friend’s second-story flat in Bramcote, Nottinghamshire, England, perched above a park filled with noisy ducks. I’m facing a wall of windows and watching the most beautiful sunset I’ve seen outside of Arizona. I’ve never seen a sunset like this before in Minnesota, Illinois, England or Washington, D.C. The sky is literally aflame with long orange clouds topped by pink, gauzy strips. Shades of deep purple give depth to the brilliant colors. And I am thinking of Mallory.

I didn’t know that Mallory liked the sunset colors until I read your journal today, but it makes perfect sense. I do know she loved pink and orange and purple, because she was always wearing them! When I think back on the last year of Kids Church and my nearly 52 Sundays spent with the same small group in that same room, I always see Mallory as a little bright ball of energy and smiles, even if she was coughing or fighting a fever.

Of course there are no words that will make you feel better or diminish the grief. In fact, I know from experience that, when we Christians are going through deep grief, people will say so many words. Most of them will be well-meant, but even then we will want to scream because we’ve heard the same thing so many times. We get sick of being “preached at” or “cheered up.” We get sick of giving the same dreary explanation and the same assurances of gratitude over and over again. But we do not get sick of knowing someone else cares, that someone else wants to help carry the burdens, if even for a short while.

I just wanted to let you know, then, that I care. I do not know either of you very well and I certainly did not know Mallory as well as many did, but I did know her. And I treasured her. I loved her calm, helpful presence in the midst of a chaotic class, and I also loved that she wasn’t always calm. Despite the fact that she was the “sick kid” (though the other kids never seemed to notice this), she was still human, not saintly. Sometimes she talked too much or didn’t listen, but on the rare occasion when this happened, she was so quick to respond to my gentle chiding. She was not a saint, but she was better than a saint, because she was real yet she loved Jesus and she loved life with her whole heart.

As I told you in an email last summer, Mallory spoke into my life in a dark time, when she shared the complex picture of the servant seeking a precious jewel at great cost, only to see the jewel turn grey and lifeless as he presented it to the King. She wanted to know what it meant, and when I told her to ask God, she did. “I think it means we’re supposed to keep trying, no matter what happens and what the outcome is,” she told me. “God says that what matters is what we do and how we do it, not what we end up with.”

That was a powerful message to me as I contemplated events in my own life, but now I see her picture in a whole new light. God has used this word to speak to me of Mallory’s own life and her own heart. I see Him being tremendously pleased with her, and all that she accomplished for his kingdom, although the ending is so horrendously wrong.

I think of Mallory now and I remember her chattering about her cats, about how Aaron always wanted to play in the hospital play room, about how excited she was to go home and sew a teddy bear with her mom. I remember her bowling me over with big hugs and giggling and giggling and giggling. I remember watching her come into the kids’ room and scanning the crowd for her friends, then her big eyes brightening and that huge smile splitting her face as she ran towards Marissa or Emily. I remember Mallory raising her hand every week to ask us to pray for her and for her loved ones, and I remember her clear, sweet, unbelievably-intelligent-voice reading scripture passages with complete ease.

I recall how last year at Advent the children wrote prophetic Messiah passages onto paper ornaments. It was an activity that was fine and dandy for the older kids, but I knew many of our first graders wouldn’t be able to fit an entire Bible verse onto a Christmas ornament. So I handed the Bible to Mallory and she wrote out the entire verse in careful, perfect, small script more legible than my own. I thanked God yet again for sending Mallory to my class.

I’m glad, right now, that I’m not teaching Sunday School at Evanston Vineyard this year, for I don’t think I could bear being there without having Mallory in the midst.

The sunset is darkening now and the colors are becoming more muted—all but the orange. The orange is flaming out brighter than ever, as if in defiance of the approaching night. The reason I came to my friend’s place this evening is so I could do some creative writing in a peaceful spot, so I was doing some writing about a little dialogue I was having with Jesus. I “saw” him sitting next to me on the sofa and we were chatting about many things, when I suddenly noticed the stunning sky.

“This is one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen, Jesus!” I exclaimed in my little mind’s eye conversation. I heard his response quite clearly.

“Yes,” he said. “Mallory had a say in it.”

I am so sorry for your loss. There is nothing else to say, but know that Mallory’s death touches so many of us, including me. As I write this, my eyes are filling with tears yet again.

It will be so wonderful to see her again. But I’m going to have to wait in a long line in heaven to get my turn, I think, because no doubt the Lord has already spread her fame far and wide around there, just as he’s done here.

With love,
Stephanie Fosnight

P.S. If you have not already seen it, I do recommend the book “A Sacred Sorrow: Reclaiming the Lost Language of Lament” by Michael Card. It’s at the church bookstore.

Mallory Blake Langill (2000-2007)

Mallory died on Sunday morning.

Who was Mallory? She was an amazing, 7-year-old girl who loved Jesus, her parents, her little brother, her friends, her cats and making stuff. Her favorite colors were orange, pink and purple, because they were the colors of the sunset. I had the immense privilege of being her Sunday School teacher for one year. This photo was taken on my last Sunday in Chicago, just a few months before Mallory began to deteriorate. She'd always been sick from cystic fibrosis, and was on the double lung transplant list, and about a month ago was moved to a children's hospital to await new lungs. She didn't make it.

Here is an email I sent out today to all who'd been praying for Mallory. I am determined that I will always remember this little girl, and as long as I am writing and telling stories, I will talk about Mallory.

If you haven't already heard, Mallory's body could no longer take the wait for new lungs. She finally had to stop fighting. As her parents reported in their blog announcement, God decided to not only give hernew lungs but a whole new body to enjoy in His presence, in heaven. She died at about 4 a.m. CST on Sunday morning. See the entry here:

http://www.cotaformalloryl.com/node/35

I found out this morning, as I did not get a chance to check email or messages yesterday. Of course I am very grieved, not for Mallory because, cheesy as it sounds, it's more than true to say she is in a far better place. But I am grieving for her parents Chris and Lee, for her little brother Aaron (who's 4) and for all of us in her extended network of family and friends. Including myself.

Mallory had such talents and gifts of intelligence and friendship, as well as an incredibly perceptive heart. I was so looking forward to seeing her live life with new lungs and seeing her grow up into a lovely girl and young woman. I will miss her and I will never forget her.

Her own dad said that Mallory probably impacted more people in her 7 years than her parents have in their 40-something years.

Thank you for all of the prayers, whether you know Mallory or not. Her parents say the prayers and support have really gotten them through this time, and they are also grateful that so many strangers (including those in England!) have been praying for them. I know they will appreciate continued prayers as they now grieve and continue to face financial challenges because of the medical bills. Please pray for them as they strive to celebrate Christmas with Aaron in the face of such painful loss.

Some of you had mentioned that you felt uncomfortable praying for lungs for Mallory, since someone else had to die in order for that tohappen. Our prayers had simply been that some other family, in theirgrief and loss, would make the choice to donate their loved ones' organs. In the end, it was Mallory's family who made the decision tod onate their own daughter's organs, and I know that Mallory's death will mean life for others we will never meet. Please consider organ donation yourself, if you haven't, and check to make sure you'vecomplied with your own state's organ donor laws. For example, the Illinois laws changed a few years ago, but it's easy to register online if you haven't done so.

I wish it hadn't turned out this way. I know it didn't have to. But despite the sometimes overwhelming presence of death and evil in thisfallen world, I still know God is good and He is faithful. And rightnow Mallory knows that more than any of the rest of us.
Thank you,
Stephanie

If you'd like to learn more about lung transplants and cystic fibrosis, as well as hear the story of a very cool guy named Steve and the young woman named Kari who gave him new life, go here for an article I wrote last year:

http://www.pioneerlocal.com/evanston/lifestyles/health_family/135554,on-kari-111606-s1.article

As Steve told me in his condolence email, he constantly tells Kari's story for all of the Mallorys in the world. And now I want to tell Mallory's story for all of the others like her.

Differences Between the U.S. and U.K.

1. The man just came to read the gas meter. I had to let him in, direct him to the kitchen cupboard where it's kept, and let him out to a "cheers, love." A man also came to read the electricity meter. Aren't all these meters now outside in the U.S., if not just transmitted digitally anyway?

2. There is a milkman. Not everyone uses the milkman anymore, but we do. I love it! And the milk does seem to taste better (most dairy products, in fact, taste better here than at home...with the exception of ice cream).

3. Ketchup and Salt and Vinegar chips (crisps) are sweeter. I know everyone says the U.S. makes everything sweet, but I've found most desserts (puddings) here to be sweeter than at home. Sometimes I miss the tang.

4. No tumble dryers. We hang our wet clothes outside or inside on radiators.

5. Buttons and symbols on stoves, remote controls, ovens, vacuums (Hoovers) and pretty much anything electronic, which means i sometimes feel like an idiot when I can't figure out how to work stuff.

6. Loads and loads and loads of words. Where do I begin? onesie (baby grow), dinner (tea), zucchini (courgette), rutabaga (swede), brew (steep), trunk (boot), hood (bonnet), vest (undershirt), waistcoat (vest), suspenders (braces), pants (trousers), underwear (pants) and I could go on and on and on...

7. Intersections and traffic. Backwards and with roundabouts. Nuff said.

8. Fahrenheit into Celsius, pounds into kilos or stones, inches into centimeters (except when talking about height). But a pint is a pint is a pint, thank goodness!

There's a tiny little window into my new life.

Bonfire party photos

Everyone loved the sparklers!
Rachel, Laura and Stephanie attempt to dance the haka, some fierce tribal thing the New Zealand rugby team performs (menacingly) before each match.
I am all smiles at the bonfire birthday party. Look at those flames!
I have a difficult time blowing out the candles on my birthday cake because I am laughing so hard.

Bonfire Night Birthday Party!

Hope you enjoyed the above photos!
For more photos, follow this

link

to my friendly Facebook album. No log-in or passwords needed!

So, yes, I received the birthday gift of an amazing, very fun, very well-attended party, thanks to the Grange family.

Monday was Guy Fawkes Day aka Bonfire Night aka The 5th of November aka My 29th Birthday. I'd had a big party last year and so this year I hoped someone would invite me to a bonfire or something. But then Pete & Sue told me they used to have bonfire parties when "the children" (now 23, 25 and 27) were small and suggested we host another. I was delighted, of course, and sent out invitations with the tagline, "Bad Day for Guy Fawkes/Good Day for Stephanie."

Monday was a quiet day. Even though my U.S. phone didn't start ringing until 1 p.m. (when America woke up), I still got plenty of birthday text messages from thoughtful new friends here. I also received birthday greetings from Pete & Sue (who gave me tokens for buying a new book...they'd picked up somehow that I enjoy reading!!!) and a sweet card from Julia. I tried to get work done but my phone kept ringing and my mobile kept buzzing and then Pete started to build a magnificent bonfire, wigwam-style, in the driveway, so I gave up all pretense of working. Pippa (one of the discipleship year pastors) took me out for a lovely cup of tea and slice of birthday cake at a cafe overlooking a lake in the nature preserve and then I got home and helped prepare food. Julia, who used to work for a professional stylist, then helped me put together a glamorous, cold-weather birthday outfit that meant I wouldn't have to wear a coat (gloves and scarf were very necessary, however). I love having my own stylist--and her closet-- one bedroom door over!

By 7:45, 15 minutes after the official start of the party, everything was ready. Dave (who'd been poring over fireworks catalogues for weeks) had them set up on the lawn, Pete couldn't wait to set off the bonfire with his beloved blow torch, and Sue had broiled 40 sizzling sausages. The onions were fried, the chips and dips ready, the cakes and toffees laid out, everything. We sat quietly in the kitchen, enjoying the calm before the storm, until I quipped, "You know how at the start of every party you wonder if anyone is going to come? Well, that's how I feel right now!"

A few minutes later, though, one person came. Then two, then three and suddenly the kitchen was crowded and we enlisted everyone to carry the food and drinks out to the big table set out in the hedge-enclosed driveway. Then someone called, "Stephanie, there's a horde of people coming down the driveway!" and sure enough, there was a well-bundled, chatty, happy crowd heading down the path.

"More friends!" I cried gleefully and ran from person to person getting hugs, kisses (from the girls), cards and even some presents (lots of wine and chocolate...yay! I shared the wine but hid the chocolate away). Before long there must have been about 40 people present, and Pete torchd off the bonfire to cheers.

After serving hot sausages and mulled wine, everyone walked through the hedge arch separating the driveway from the garden (yard) where the crowd lined up and waited expectantly for fireworks. I must admit I was pretty nervous about this, because even though Dave had been doing lots of research on how to (literally) get the most bang for the buck, we only had €35, and for days guests had been coming up to me saying, "I am *so* excited about the fireworks at your party!" However, I needn't have worried. Dave had arranged two separate fireworks displays and each one filled the air with showers of rockets and stars. There were even the fun crackly ones that I always love to listen to. The crowd oohed and aahed---and once, when a firework ricocheted off a branch and headed towards us before exploding above our heads--screamed and ducked, and then nearly fell over laughing at our fright. It was awesome! We all loved it and all had a blast.

In the break between fireworks we passed out sparklers and they sang to me and I blew out the candles on my birthday cake. As guests walked in ones and twos back through the hedge arch, I stood on the other side watching. At first I was waiting to get through to the kitchen door, and then I just stopped and marveled as each person came through the arch. With the exception of a few friends of Steve, whom I hadn't met before (but who were very welcome), I knew every single person there. Most came from Discipleship Year and small group, as well as a few other ministries I am part of, like prayer on the streets and children's work. And I knew some of them quite well after weeks of serving alongside them.

"I can't believe I didn't know anybody two months ago," I said to my friend Libby (also a Discipleship Year pastor) who was standing with me.

"Just think, all of these people are here because they love you," she said.

"I can't believe it," I said. "It's so amazing. God has blessed me so much with this community."

For awhile I simply wandered happily among the various groups, from those in the kitchen heating mulled wine (you rock, Tim B.!) to those in the garden to those gathered around the food table and the bonfire. It was a perfect night...cold with some clouds, but still stars, and everyone was scarfed and mittened and hatted and happy. Most of the party is kind of a blur, but I remember laughing and laughing and laughing. There was more of the usual teasing about my accent, but when one of the guys jokingly made a disparaging comment about me, "that rude American," a whole group of girls flew to my defense and wouldn't even let him joke about it. I just cheerfully told him if he kept it up I'd shove him into the fire (not a nice thing to say, admittedly, but it was funny).

As it got towards 11 p.m., folks started to leave (it was Monday night, after all), but a hardy group of about 20 pulled up chairs around the fire and we roasted marshmallows and chatted. Folks finally left about 11:15 and Sue and I stayed up until midnight cleaning and talking about the party.

The next morning I received a flurry of wonderful birthday cards from dear friends and family members in the States, all hoping that I felt loved and celebrated. Trust me, I did. Thanks to the Granges and my wonderful new community, I couldn't have had a better birthday.

Chatsworth House and grounds

I decide which book I would pull off the library shelves, were I allowed.
One of Mom's favorite sculptures (a copy of the bust is in the Minneapolis Institute of Art), only this time the Vestal Virgin gets a touch of Christmas festivity. (Yes, we visited on Nov. 3, but the English really get into the whole Christmas spirit thing...early).
It may have been Christmassy inside the house, but outside it was pure autumn bliss.
I pose with my traveling companions and fellow disciples Ruth and Jo. We left Nottingham at 8 a.m. on Saturday morning and traveled by bus about 2.5 hours, stopping in the city of Derby and then little villages as we wound our way into the Peak District and then to Chatsworth House. We spent an hour exploring the house itself but then four hours having a blast on the grounds. We walked all through the formal gardens and got lost in the hedge maze, we traipsed through woods and over bridges, we climbed alongside fountains and took a tram tour of the woods on the ridge and an Elizabethan hunting tower. We picknicked on a ledge overlooking the valley and then had tea and cake in the stables-turned-restaurant. We finally left at 4:15 p.m., took a bus to the village of Matlock and puttered around a bit there before catching another bus back to Nottingham. We arrived home around 7, tired but very happy with our exciting day.

For more photos and comments, click here

.

What a Week

"Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are -- chaff and grain together -- certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away." -George Eliot (pen name of Mary Ann Evans), novelist (1819-1880)

I pulled this quote from

17 pens

, my pal Michael's blog. I love it.

I don't even know where to begin writing about the last week. The last week has been intense but amazing and just, overall, good. Very, very good. I feel such contentment and peace about being here in England, doing this work. This morning my friend Laura came for tea and we sat in my peaceful, quiet, sunny bedroom chatting and just being. I sat there, perched on the bed, clutching my tea and watching the shifting sunlight, blown about by the apple tree branches outside the window, move in patterns over Laura's lovely face. And I felt again that encompassing peace. I didn't even really want to talk, and Laura understood (although, as you can imagine, I was soon talking plenty!)

I do worry about next year and wonder where on earth I will be. I realized the other day that, during all of last year as I prayed and discerned about doing this Discipleship Year program here in Nottingham, I was more or less planning on returning to Chicago since I was in a serious relationship. Even before we were engaged, I just sort of assumed I'd be going back and picking up my life more or less where it left off. And now, of course, there is nothing compelling me to return. Oh, yes, there are marvelous friends and wonderful places and opportunities in Chicago, and I was very happy in my life there. But I do know that when I return, if I stay, it will all be different. Everyone will have changed, everyone will have moved on, in a sense. And I will have moved on, as well. Consider the experiences I've been having lately. It's impossible to NOT be transformed.

Last Wednesday Julia and I went shopping for Soup Run. Twice a week a team from Trent Vineyard goes out into the city centre with sandwiches, crisps, chocolate and cold and hot drinks. We go to meet the homeless population, and they all know that we'll be out and they look for us, as well. It was my first time on Soup Run and I wasn't sure how it would all come together, but it really wasn't hard at all. Jules and I went to Sainsbury's and bought the stuff on the list: fruit, bread, meat and cheese, chocolate, crisps, squash (the drink, not the veggie), plastic bags, etc. We were famished and treated ourselves to McDonalds on the way back to church. We did arrive 5 minutes late (due to the long line at Sainsbury's, not our McDonalds stop) but received much merciless ribbing. We brought all of the food into the church kitchen, where small group leaders were waiting to assemble it all, but left our Mickey Ds out in the hall. Then Julia and I snuck into the hall and began quickly eating our hamburgers, hoping to escape notice. However, group leader (and youth pastor) James happened to stick his head into the hall. He saw us and his face fell.

"You went to MacDonalds?" he asked (they all say it with a pronounced "Mac" here). "And you didn't get me any?"

Then he stuck his head back into the kitchen.

"Come here, everyone," he called. "Come see why the girls were late."

I sensibly slipped behind a pillar but Julia squared her shoulders and planted her feet in defiance and began cramming her Big Mac into her mouth with a look of pure rebellion on her face.

"MacDonalds?" Nathan exclaimed. "Julia, that's disgraceful!"

"I'm not sorry," Jules said, glaring at him as she continued to stuff her burger into her mouth. Much merriment ensued.

We made about 50 sandwiches and picked up the rucksacks filled with thermos bottles, hot drink makings, emergency supplies and things like socks and dog food. Then we headed out to the city centre. After splitting into two teams, we wandered around the city, looking for someone who might want a hot drink or some food.

We finally settled on the steps of the downtown Marks & Spencer department store and set up a little drinks station there as the guys started coming. We chatted with them for a long time--I spent a very long time talking with one man who was telling me all of his conspiracy theories about JFK, Tony Blair and everything in between. We gave out sandwiches and the other food, as well as lots of tea, hot chocolate, coffee and even some soup (hence the name: Soup Run). Then we all went off to a pub where a friend's band was playing for a farewell event (or, as they say here, a "leaving do").

As we walked towards the pub, I saw Steve, one of our group members, walking ahead looking rather dejected. I caught up to him and asked him what was wrong.

"Well, I was just thinking about what we're going to do now, versus what those guys are going back to," he said. And he was right. We'd finished our job and were off to enjoy ourselves in warmth and comfort once more. And these men were going back to their difficult lives on the streets. Living rough, they call it here.

The next morning I was down at The Arches, as usual, doing project working (meeting wih the clients and helping them get what they need), as usual. I recognized a few of the guys I'd met on Soup Run and said hello. One man came in for a shower so I helped him get some toiletries and a change of clothes together. He rifled without shame through the bin of donated, (gently) used underwear and socks, and went off for his shower, leaving quite a trail of scent behind him but pleased with a change of clothes. He was about my age.

I also helped a young woman a few years younger who'd come in with her 12-day-old baby boy. "Sharon" had just received legal refugee status after having fled Eritrea and coming to England seeking political asylum. Her tiny new son looked like a precious doll, and he slept through the entire interview. Since Sharon had received status and been given a flat, we knew that all she had was a cooker, microwave and mattress on the floor, and I was allowed to be generous, especially as her fiance is expected to join her from Sudan in a few weeks. However, when we went back to the Furniture Arches, there was nothing there. We haven't had many donations lately and it had all been claimed.

While we were looking, though, the church van pulled up. My friend Jen explained that a woman had just died and her daughter donated the entire contents of the house to the Arches. Sharon was right there standing with me and we were able to claim it all for her: double bed, matching wardrobe and chest of drawers, dining room table with four chairs, sofa, display cabinet, mirror, etc. Sharon just couldn't believe and neither could I, hardly. I wish the woman who so generously donated her mother's things had been there to see the immediate difference they had made in the life of a new young family just getting ready to start over in a foreign land.

Friday I spent all day at church doing fun Discipleship Year team day stuff, as usual, but then that night I was on the Cabin rota. The Cabin is similar to the Soup Run except the team brings out a little camper-trailer (they call it a caravan), hook up a generator, and serve hot food from it in a parking lot.

My fellow disciple Pete and I were just there to help, so we rode in the cab of the truck out to Sneinton Market, where the homeless and poor guys (and a few girls) were waiting. We helped set up tables and chairs in front, and then a couple dropped off the food: pots of hot chili, lots of baked potatoes, bags of cheese and bread. Another team came and served hot drinks from one window, as well as passing out sandwich packs, while Pete and I dished up the hot food. Some men were very pleasant and polite, some were ... not. "How come his is bigger than mine?", "Oi, I want more chili," "Don't put any cheese on mine," "Chili and potatoes again? What happened to the Caribbean chicken," were just a few of the comments. However, the teacher in me refused to be bullied and I made the guys wait their turn and didn't give them special food unless a) they asked nicely and b)there was enough. Later Pete told me he was impressed with how strict I was. But I kind of had to be. Many of them were drunk or stoned so it was pretty much like dealing with a bunch of toddlers!

Of course, they weren't all like that. Some of the men were very pleasant and polite. My accent always gives away my nationality, of course, so I talked to several of them about America. After the food was gone two of the guys stood up by the window and talked with me. One of them has traveled quite a lot in the West, so we talked about that. The other was pretty out of it. He is just 20, he said, but he was missing most of his teeth. His black hair was incredibly greasy and obviously hadn't been washed in a long time. He didn't speak clearly at all and was very hard to understand. He started telling Cary (one of the other helpers) and me about how he is trying to get off meth and a few other drugs. His father started giving him drugs when he was just a boy. He spent most of his teen years in jail. As I watched him and listened to him, my heart just broke. "God had so many different plans for you," I thought. "He wanted you to grow up in a healthy family where you were loved and where you thrived. You could be a successful young man starting out in business right now, or a university student. Intead, you are here, broken and bruised and quite possibly beyond true redemption." I prayed a lot for him that night.

I was surprised, though, that both young men began asking me about God and whether or not I was a Christian. I guess they know we're there from a church, so these questions come up even though I don't introduce them. The young guy told us about how he attended some Bible studies in jail and how he liked reading the Bible now, but that it was hard on the streets to find a warm place with lights where he wouldn't be kicked out.

After awhile we shut the Cabin up and drove back to church, but the day still wasn't over. There was a women's ministry event that night, attended by about 300 ladies, and I had to help break down the tables and chairs. I rode my bike home very wearily and fell into bed around 11 p.m.

The next morning was Saturday and I got up early enough to watch an episode of "Friends" while eating my cereal, but then I was on the train into town to meet the others for our biweekly Ministry on the Streets event. (For stories from that event, go

here

). Afterwards I spent two hours at a cafe working on editing a paper for a Northwestern grad student (something I get paid handsomely to do, so I didn't mind) and then my friend Ruthie met up with me. We went to the bus station to inquire about our upcoming trip to Chatsworth House on Nov. 3, then caught the train back to my place. Soon a few other friends had arrived and a lively game of "Ticket to Ride" was in progress, followed by a girlie night spent watching "Dirty Dancing."

Sunday morning I was coordinating the 9-11s room at church. We had 35 kids and started with only 3 teachers, not a good plan when we're all crammed into a tiny room, but a few others got cajoled into helping. It was a hectic but very fun morning and the lesson plan and curriculum I prepared seemed to go over really well, even the teaching bit where I gave the kids a mini-sermon. They also seemed very enthralled and had a good time.

I was back at home to polish off that paper for the NU student and send it off, then enjoyed a lovely roast pork dinner with the family before I had to get on my bike and go BACK to church, this time for choir rehearsal. They've put together a special choir for the Christmas carol service on Dec. 9, which is always a really big deal. That was very fun and the choir is quite good, but I couldn't stay for the entire rehearsal because I had to get down to the auditorium to do set-up for the evening service (it's true. When you are on Discipleship Year they work you very hard!). By this point I was insanely exhausted and nearly falling over, but I made it through the service and clean-up somehow and staggered home on my bike at about 10:30 p.m.

Yesterday was much more relaxed (I slept in until 9 a.m.!!!) but I spent much of it preparing to teach a course on prayer that evening. I'm helping to lead the MORE course, which our pastor Ade pioneered to help new Christians learn about the Christian life and healthy spiritual habits. I was excited to teach on prayer (I distributed my "Meeting with God" booklet--download the PDF from the link list at left) and had a fun PowerPoint presentation to help the 30-or-so adults engage as I told lots of stories and outlined some practical ideas for prayer. I was very nervous before beginning but actually had a GREAT time standing up there (in the same spot and same room where I'd taught the kids the day before, actually) getting to wax eloquently about intimacy with Jesus, one of my very favorite subjects. We followed it up with small group discussion and afterwards several people gave me excellent feedback. I think it was a very helpful session and really helped to demystify and "deguilt" the whole concept of prayer.

So that was my week. Today is quiet and I have to do some journalism work, but tomorrow it all starts again, first when I have coffee with my mentor, then with an evening core group meeting for the small group (the leaders asked me to join it), followed by the actual small group. Then on Thursday I'm helping my friend Hannah present two school assemblies about the poor and what we do at the Arches and will be getting involved with preparing and presenting those. It's a never-ending round but I am loving it. I'm just loving it. Although, if I didn't have these quiet Monday-Wednesday mornings, I'd surely be tearing my hair out by now.

Ticket to Ride and Photo Bonanza

I was right. The game came from Mom & Dad. So I opened my birthday present two weeks early. Ooops. But I am very excited about it!

Check out my pretty fall photos!

Expressions

Timmy the cat teaches Stephanie how to glower menacingly.
Jen Rankine expresses outrage at a controversial call during the England/South Africa Rugby World Cup game.
Jen prays for God's grace to smile down upon the England team.
Jen is in the depths of despair over the England's sad fate (the prayer was too little, too late, apparently).

As I've been uploading photos, updating my blog and thinking about getting to work this morning, I received a pleasant and mysterious surprise. The doorbell just rang and I ran down, expecting the plumber (as our boiler is broken AGAIN!). But it wasn't, it was a man with a massive box. I mean, massive, like about half my size. I figured it was for someone else in the house but when I opened the door he said, "Are you Stephanie?" and I nodded in pleased shock as I signed and brought the box inside. It was huge but fairly light and was sent from within the UK, so that ruled out overseas care packagages. I ripped it open and, under layers of brown paper, found a white, large box with the words "Hamleys: The Finest Toys in the World" emblazoned on it in red. So I opened that box and was confronted with the sight of loads of gold and red ribbon and stars. At this point I thought, "Hmm...maybe this is an early birthday present. But who in England would mail me such a giant present?" As there was no card I decided I couldn't take the suspense (especially as my Nov. 5 birthday is still two weeks away) and just went ahead and dug through the ribbon and confetti. Finally, at the bottom, I found the board game "Ticket to Ride." No card, but I'm pretty sure it's from my family, perhaps my parents and grandparents, since this is one of their favorite games. It's very fun and has very elegant pieces so I'm very excited to play it. I wonder how they shipped it from a UK company? In 49 minutes it will be 6 a.m. in Mesa and I will be able to call Mom & Dad and find out!!!

I love getting mail. (hint, hint) Let me know if you want my address :)

Mists of October

The other morning there was a very thick mist as I was cycling to church for our Discipleship Year Team Day. I actually had to stop and put my lights on my bike because I was having trouble seeing more than five feet in front of me (I guess qualifying it as a fog, rather than a mist) but the photos turned out lovely! Here are shots from the British Waterways canal I cycle alongside. The shot of me with the tree coming out of my head was a self-portrait I took while exploring the University of Nottingham campus on a sunny day a week ago.


Friday was a long and busy day with team time, theology sessions, cleaning the church, lunch and then setting up and attending a Potential Leaders seminar that night. The next morning the Discipleship Year team was back at church bright and early to serve refreshments for Day 2 of the leaders seminar and we were busy until 4 p.m. I then headed off with my friends Robin and Jida for a walk back into the city centre, where Jida and I abandoned Robin (her husband) to go shopping and do girly things like try on hats and makeup. We grabbed a quick cup of tea and then were back at Jida & Robin's flat for a fast dinner. Since Jida is Israeli-Arab and Robin is Austrian-English, they had yummy Middle Eastern bread, cheese and olives and German sausage. I hadn't realized how my palate was craving some international flavors after the generally bland English food (sorry, new friends). I just couldn't stop eating that sausage and herb feta.

Then we were back to church yet again that night for the Rugby World Cup. For you ignorant Americans (like me), the Rugby World Cup only comes once every four years and England barely made the finals this year after two months of semi-finals. They were playing against South Africa and trying to retain their title from 2003. Well, as you can imagine, rugby fever had swept the UK, and Trent Vineyard celebrated by showing the game on their big screen and opening the bar that's in the corner of the sanctuary/auditorium (the bar is for all big evening events and after every Sunday night service). I desperately wanted to be part of the action but don't understand rugby very well, so was thrilled when they asked me to be on the bar team. It was my second time serving on the bar (though I'm now on a monthly rota) and I had a blast. However, there were a couple of hundred people there, and the queue (yes, the English actually queued up for the bar, until James--the bar supervisor and one of the youth pastors--scolded them all and told them to 'crowd round the counter like normal people') stretched halfway across the auditorium. Thanks to all of the people, there was an insane rush on the bar and I poured dozens of pints, opened a lot of bottles (got inadvertently sprayed with warm ale several times, too) and also served a lot of Coke and juice.

Unfortunately, England lost the game by quite a lot (the best part was when a South African player got accidentally pushed over the the barrier and landed on top of a TV cameraman) so there was an extremely subdued atmosphere when the Brits left after the game. However, there were many, many glasses to run through the dishwasher, so the rest of the team and I had our work cut out for us for awhile. It was fun!

The discerning among you may notice that there is no Carlsberg Export actually coming out of this tap into the half-pint glass. That's because I wanted a photo of me actually pouring a pint--in a church--but was too busy to hand the camera to someone until after the event. Jules (my English 'sister') was obliging enough to set this one up with me after the fact.

Ministry on the Streets

If you're wondering what happens when a team of 15 people go out to the crowded city centre on a Saturday morning to pass out chocolate bars with stickers that say, "A token of God's love," then check out this new blog I'm helping with.

Stories on the Street

The team also sets up about four chairs in the city, next to a statue, and have signs that read, "Healing" and "Are you feeling ill? Would you like to feel better? We have seen God heal many hurts and would be happy to pray for you if you'd like. All it costs is a moment of your time."

To be honest, I wasn't sure what kind of response we'd get with this enterprise. But I discovered that folks are very happy to get chocolate bars and some of them even want to know about the church. We honestly don't make a big deal out of telling them about church. We're not out to steal parishioners or throw Bibles at people or anything. It's truly just a way to tangibly show people that we love them, just like we say we do. We're also there to lend a listening ear and, if they desire, to pray with them.

I'm looking forward to going out on a regular basis and gathering all sorts of stories!

P.S. The above blog site is rated PC for Particularly Christian. (Cute, huh?) You all know that I'm also not interested in throwing Bibles at people, and while much of what I post on my blog here has to do with the church work I'm currently involved in, it's not written for a "Christian audience" (a term I rather dislike). However, the other blog is.

Delighting the spirit

I haven't been homesick yet, although I've started to have twinges for the lovely home I created with Sara and Trudy and then Sara and Erica. I miss small things like my gorgeous walnut dining room set (thanks Carol!) and my soft, white down comforter (thanks Mom & Dad!) and, when I made American-style chocolate chip cookies the other day, I missed my electric hand mixer BIG TIME.

Yet I am happy, oh so happy, because I am where I am supposed to be. Yet I also know how to rejuvenate and relax when it all becomes overwhelming. Here, in no particular order, are some of the little delights that feed my soul and rest my spirit as I live in another country and go through major changes emotionally, physically and vocationally.

Having Internet, a laptop, an iPod and Vonage phone service (allowing me to call America and receive American phone calls for only a low monthly fee) has made a BIG difference in my settling process, too.

1. Scrapbooking, especially while listening to the soundtrack to the new Canadian stage musical

Anne & Gilbert

based on two of my beloved Anne books, "Anne of Avonlea" and "Anne of the Island," by L.M. Montgomery.

2.

A Prairie Home Companion

and

The Writer's Almanac

, two radio programs featuring Garrison Keillor's familiar, soothing voice that evoke favorite things like poetry, music and Minnesota.

3. Online radio station

Pandora

, that lets you build the perfect playlist and discover new artists by responding by your feedback as each new song comes on.

4. Cycling along the canal path as the leaves change, exploring historic sites like the Nottingham Castle and discovering pastoral beauty in spots like the Nottingham University campus.

5. Books from the Nottinghamshire public libraries. Just now I'm into

Tony Hillerman's Four Corners mystery series

and

James Herriott's lovely animal stories

. Reading James Herriot in the English Midlands, just one town south of Northern England, makes perfect geographic sense. Reading about northeastern Arizona, however, is quite a time traveling experience!

6. Painting with watercolors, as Mom taught me at Howard Lake this summer.

7. Playing Scrabulous on Facebook! And updating my blog.

8. Worshipping and hanging out with my new friends. Kristen and Liz came over today for tea, conversation and prayer and we had a marvelous time.

How do you unwind?

Home

 
 
 

As I was taking photos of Pasture House last evening (the sun was setting through the clouds...hence the dreary light), Timmy the cat came bounding towards me. I'd just given him his dinner and he wanted to play. He did not want to sit still and have his photo taken, but I did my best.

You'll find more photos here:

Beeston, London, Nottingham, Snooker and Sunday Roast

London

 

I spent a very fun day in London last week, purely to sightsee. While I stayed again at my dear friend Nikhita's flat, she was busy all day so I took myself to Picadilly Cirucs, Trafalgar and Leicester Square and enjoyed the treasures of the National Gallery, St Martin-in-the-Fields church local book shops and cafes and also saw the musical Wicked, which is a little funny because it's been showing in Chicago for more than two years. But I got a great seat at a big discount when I wandered around the Picadilly Circus cheap ticket booths that morning, so I took it.

Since I was on my own that day, I asked a nice couple to take a photo of me in front of this fountain in Trafalgar Square. At the last minute their little girl ran into the frame, so here I am with the cute little girl!

Be sure to check out my latest online photo album in the previous post.

Go here for my latest photos!

London, Nottingham, Snooker and Sunday Roast

Knackered in Nottingham

 
 
 
 

The photos never seemt to publish in the order I choose them, so select the appropriate caption for the photos above:

1. Stephanie learns how to play snooker (like pool but not) with new friends Alex, Kristen, Tim, Laura and Ruth after a glorious dinner party that she hosted. No, Stephanie, you do not hit the red ball. You hit the white ball to knock in a red ball, and then you knock in a colored ball. And there are points depending on the colors of the ball. Oh, and if you fault, the other team gets four points, only more if it's a different colored ball, and so on. But my team won! (thanks mostly to Alex and Kristen, though I did knock in one red ball and one pink ball, I must add).

2.Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem is one of the several pubs claiming to be the "oldest inn in Britain" but this one, from 1189, truly is old. It gets its name from being a wayside stop where Crusaders would rest on their way to Jerusalem back in medieval times. It's built into the bottom of Castle Rock, a natural sandstone hill in the center of Nottingham upon which William the Conqueror built Nottingham Castle in 1068. Which brings us to ...

3. Nottingham Castle. Except, as any true Nottinghamite will tell you within about five minutes, the once grand castle that every royal from William the Conqueror to Henry VII stayed in and was a major military force is now gone. Despite the fact that William (forget which one, but the one who started the English Civil War in the 17th century) raised his standard there and began the war at that spot, the castle fell into disrepair and was torn down. Then, also in the 1600s, the appropriately named Duke of Newcastle bought the property and built himself a nice little palace. The interior of the palace fell into ruins but the shell is still there. Nottingham folk bemoan the loss of their true castle, but part of the original castle gatehouse (dating from the 1300s) and the bridge that led over the moat is still there, as you can see in this photo. The moat is long gone but you can see where the arches were that people crossed under.

4. And, of course, what is Nottingham and Sherwood Forest without a mention of one Robin Hood? Yes, he really lived around here (in whatever form he did live, but that's another story) and the Robin Hood statue on Castle Rock is proof of that. As you can see, I biked up to the castle (about 20 minutes from home) and posed for a shot with my old friend Robin. Apparently you can go into what remains of Sherwood Forest and sit at the old oak that Robin reportedly sat under (it's probably just a stump now) but the closest I've been is the neighborhood of Sherwood, on the other side of Nottingham, where I attended a pub quiz. Well, it was supposed to be a pub quiz but not many people turned up, so there was no taking sides and answering questions in order to win the kitty. So, instead, I had my own pub quiz with the friends I came with, playing 20 Questions. We had fun.

Today I am quite knackered (tired). It all began with my morning bike ride along the canal. I'm getting used to this ride and it's normally a pleasant 20 minutes, but there was quite a wind and I was fighting it the whole way. So when I arrived at the Arches, I sunk into a sofa and didn't move for about 20 minutes. Luckily my friend Robin (Staple, not Hood, though he wouldn't mind being mistaken for Robin Hood, his wife tells me) brought me a cup of tea.

I was assigned to the hospitality team at the Arches today, making tea, coffee (instant coffee, which is what they mostly drink here), and toast with butter and jam for the dozens of folks waiting for help. The Arches is, once again, a center where we provide clothes, furniture, household items, food and social services to the poor and downtrodden. So I started out on hospitality but there were so many clients they needed more project workers, which is a job I've become comfortable with. Project workers do interviews with the clients, finding out what they need and reading their files, then take them to the clothing arch, the furniture arch and other areas of the center. It can be tricky as we have limited resources and have some rules about what people can have.

For example, I worked today with a young woman who is a refugee from Eritrea, and she was very unhappy that she's come three times and there haven't been any single beds. She really wants a double bed but our policy is that only couples get doubles, as we don't receive many. But when I offered to pray with her she was actually very excited and even asked for an English Bible. I also helped a domestic violence survivor who simply wanted a chair, and got it. Another single mom came with her 3-year-old son and wanted furniture. We didn't have much, but her son saw a stuffed dalmatian toy on the shelf and, when I took it off the shelf and put it in his arms, I was nearly blinded by his overwhelming smile. Then I worked with another single mom who has three little kids and needed clothes and toys. Her 3-year-old boy was so excited when we got to the toy area. He found some plastic animals and happily made himself a little jungle, moving the animals around from table to chair to floor, lining them up and talking to them. We were able to give this family quite a few toys and some useful winter clothing items, and, of course, I packed up the plastic elephant, cheetah, dinosaurs and palm trees for the little boy. Since they'd already received so many toys I wondered for a minute if I should also give the animals, but we had plenty of toys today and I decided that anybody who takes so much joy in a few pieces of plastic absolutely needs to take them home. It's just amazing how little it takes to bless someone sometimes. And, I reminded myself, wrapping the animals, books, used games, coloring book, video and wooden puzzle in secondhand bags, when a mom is struggling to make ends meet it's the little things like toys that kids often miss out on.

After the Arches closed, my fellow disciples Robin, Alex and I cleaned the place (our normal job) then I was on my bike to church, where I wolfed down a sandwich and apple before meeting up with Jida (Robin's wife--a delightful young woman from Nazareth, Israel...she, Austrian-British Robin and I are all internationals, which is unusual for the locally designed Discipleship Year program, but they say they're happy to have us). Jida and I were meeting John, one of the pastors who heads up the poor ministries at Trent Vineyard. He was taking 10 of us on a visit to a local prison. We got to the prison, got through security (no mobile phones allowed) and were met by the head chaplain, who gave us some tours, introduced us to some prisoners and explained a lot about the need for volunteers within the prison. The prison itself was a stark, cold, place, although they're building new facilities to double the size. The number of prisoners in England and Wales is now at 81,000, the highest it's been in history. There's a big need for compassionate people to interact with the prisoners in secure, safe ways. I didn't feel at all threatened while there, since we were always escorted by one of the chaplains. It is true, however, that being a young woman visitor means you get started at a bit. But the few prisoners we did interact with (those who are involved in the chaplaincy programs) were very respectful. I'm not sure if I, personally, will get involved with any prison programs (other young women do, and they are treated just fine) but it was a very important reminder of our brothers and sisters who are locked up. The chaplain made a very interesting point by reminding us that Jesus died as a prisoner and that he told the prisoner on the cross next to him that he'd see him in paradise. God's heart of love and compassionl is for those locked up behind tall, grey walls as much as it is for all of the rest of us.

When I got back to church I hopped on my bike again and met my friend Emma for a game of tennis at the Beeston Tennis Centre. It was the first time we'd played together and were pretty well matched, so it was a lot of fun. Emma also just moved to Nottingham (she's from Portsmouth, on the southern coast) because she married Ade, one of our Discipleship Year pastors. She's my age and a lovely, wise woman. We're hoping to play regularly and have tea afterwards. We're also serving together in the Vineyard Kids church (ages 9 to 11) once a month and want to brainstorm some creative worship ideas for the kids.

It's been a very cold day and I'd spent a lot of it outside, exercising in some form or another, so I was very tired, hungry and eager to get home. Peter and Sue (my host "parents") are gone just now and Julia (27) and Dave (23) are often out so I figured I'd be coming home to a cold, empty house. We were all in together for a few hours last night and had dinner and Jules and I convinced Dave to go out and get us a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, which was all very fun, but they are, of course, busy young adults so I figured they'd be gone. "I need hot food," I decided, cycling up the long gravel driveway to the ivy-covered house. "Maybe I'll make something with chicken and rice."

So imagine my delight to walk in and find Julia and David at home and a big portion of a chicken-and-rice casserole that David had made waiting for me. I poured a glass of the wine Julia shared with us, got my casserole and bread and salad, and joined the others in the lounge where we propped our feet up and watched Friends reruns (the Brits LOVE Friends). Julia then shared some fine chocolate with us (she's a teacher and has a big stash left over from last summer's end-of-the-year presents) and we watched a British reality show called Hotel Inspector. Finally, finally, finally, I had to do a telephone interview for a newspaper article at 10 p.m. (scheduling them back in Chicago can be tricky with the 6-hour-time difference). I had a nice chat with a fertility doc about a new blood test for endometriosis, which reminded me briefly of my old life, and then I got on Blogger. I haven't got off yet, but now I need to because, as previously mentioned, I am knackered. And tomorrow is another fine day.

It's fun to have friends!

Note: I wrote this post several weeks ago but never posted it. So here you go.
My new friends did came over on Saturday night, Sept 22. Kristen, Ruth, Alex and Tim all came for dinner, which was relaxed and fun and then Laura joined us and we all played a raucous game of snooker. What, you ask, is snooker? That's what I asked! It's kind of like pool, only harder. Seeing as how my sum total of pool games played is about three, I was at a distinct disadvantage at snooker. There I was, trying to set up a shot on the Granges' snooker table (imagine a pool table only a smaller size, with different balls, different rules and different scoring system)and I've got my friends all giving me helpful instructions: "Lean your cue on your hand more," "Move your back hand further up," "Put your head down so you can see the line of the ball," "Stand on the balls of your feet," "Stick your bum in the air," etc... The difficulty, of course, is that two of the instructions came from people on my team and three of them came from enemies on the rival team who were all trying to set me wrong! I did fault a few times (whenever the white ball doesn't hit another ball the opposite team gets four points and sometimes even more) but we won the game, in the end, thanks to the magic snooker stylings of Kristen and Tim. And, I will admit, I got a few balls in myself...one red one and the pink one. Yippee! After snooker we watched some football (soccer) on TV and I showed them some Brian Regan snippets, which they enjoyed. Everyone went home around midnight, so I'd call my first party in England a success.

Yesterday was my first time teaching the Trent Vineyard Kids 9- to 11-year-olds. The VKids ministry amazes me. They actually have more than enough volunteers. About 250!!! I've never before been in a church where there were so many folks ready and willling and eager to work in children's ministry. Many things about Trent are, frankly, astounding. God is at work in this place and I am eager to learn more. Anyway, an honest-to-goodness primary school principal coordinates InteracTiV, the 9-11 room, with a team of about 4 teachers. Imagine a smallish room with 5 adults and 35 hyper kids. For snacks we actually give them squash (sugary juice) and Cadbury's (chocolate) during church, which I thought would be a disaster but seemed to work well. The kids do activities and worship and then break into small groups for Bible study and prayer. I had a blast and the kids seemed rather in awe of my exotic American accent. They'll get over it soon, I'm sure. I'll be in with them twice a month so will hopefully get to know some of them.

Then more Discipleship Year friends invited me out for "Sunday roast," a real English tradition. We all walked back to a nearby house (very few people here have cars) and I first enjoyed the luxury of a hot shower, since our boiler at home was broken for a few days. Then eight of us walked through The Park, a swanky part of Nottingham that was once a private estate, and into the city centre. We all ordered various roast dinners at the Canal House, a pub that's built over the canal and actually has boats docked on the canal inside the building! By the way, a pub here is a bar, but it's also a coffee shop and a restaurant. Pubs are very family friendly places, during the day at least. After a hilarious meal, about six of us decided to walk to another pub for pudding (dessert). We found a place called the Ropewalk that has lots of squashy couches and board games. However, a rugby game was on (most Americans probably do not realize we're in the midst of the Rugby World Cup and that England is now in the semifinals) and since I wasn't too interested I curled up on a couch and took a Sunday nap. When I woke up we all had some drinks and chatted some more, and then Ruth and I suddenly realized with horror that we had to be back at church in an hour. So we walked as fast as humanly possible back to her house where we made sandwiches and wolfed them down while practically running to church.

I got there at 6:35, five minutes late but nobody noticed. Phew! They are strict about our serving times. I then did set-up with a team, mostly which consists of placing chairs in a very precise manner and at just the right time to facilitate community. After the service we cleaned up and I was home around 11. It was such a fun day!

Nottingham Life

 
 
 

I know everyone has eagerly been anticipating the latest blog post and I've heard comments like, "I know you're busy doing exciting things, but I want to see the photos!" Well, the truth is that I haven't done anything especially exciting lately. I've just been settling into my new home and am getting used to daily life. But I thought I'd post a few photos and talk a little bit more here about the Discipleship Year.

The above photos are from a couple of fun times with my new friends in the program. In one of them, Ruth polishes the bannister/wall at the top of the stairs in Trent Vineyard. In another, I'm cleaning the lift (elevator). And in the third, Chris and I are playing Dance, Dance Revolution when a group of us went out bowling last Saturday night. For moe photos from this set (warning: it's all either pix of us bowling or cleaning, go here:

Discipleship Year Cleans and Bowls

What can I say? I am getting used to my new life. And it's a good life. I still feel a slight sense of unease about everything. Nothing is quite normal or familiar yet, but I'm getting there. I've learned to ride my bike for hours a day, running errands or merely cycling along the canal as I head to the Arches or to church. My days consist of doing writing work from home, hanging out with my new friends, working at the Arches (a comprehensive, Trent-run center offering food, furniture, clothing and services to the poor and political refugees), or being at church either learning and worshipping or serving and cleaning. The rumors were true: Discipleship Year does mean a lot of cleaning. I don't mind it at all, but I will admit that I've begun to think more than I ever have before about the people who do this kind of job for a living. Now that I'm getting settled, I find myself thinking. Often.

Yesterday, in between our two worship/teaching times as a team and before lunch, we did our usual weekly cleaning of the church. I was assigned to clean the lift and then picked up rubbish (trash) from the car park (parking lot). As I squatted along the flower beds picking Cadbury's wrappers out of the thorns, I felt a quiet peace. I was doing good work, humble work. And it also caused me to continue the ongoing inner dialogue I've had about about pride. Pride can be a good thing, as in self-esteem and pride in good things, but there's also that other pride--hubris, the putting of oneself above others. I didn't realize I did much of that, but as I contentedly picked up trash, I wondered if I'd be able to do this particular task for the rest of my life. Of course I won't be doing it the rest of my life (at least not as a job) but I realized the hard part for me of being employed as a rubbish-picker-upper would be telling people that's what I did. I would want to stress highly that picking up rubbish was a choice for me and that I was talented and skilled enough to do other things. That I had experience in the wide world of success. That I had accomplished big things.

And so, just a few weeks into it, this Year of service has begun to hit me in unexpected ways. They keep warning us about how we'll be brought to the brink of ourselves and be in tears often as we stress ourselves and confront our hidden selves. I don't really expect that in my own life, to be honest, since I am pretty darn self-aware and since I've already begun the process of letting God heal the "wound deep as the sea" (I found that in Lamentations this week and felt it was very appropriate) that is in my heart as a result of my broken engagement. I don't see how this Year is really going to be much different or more stressful for me emotionally than what I've already been through, and I believe that since I'm doing fairly easy, fun work from home for my paid job, I won't be "broken" in quite the same way as some of the other disciples. Yet I've already begun to feel Jesus work in me as he quietly peels away the various layers in my heart and shows me more about living like himself, and what I can do to be more like him. I think this whole journey is partly about me getting more of God's heart for the world, and I see that already beginning to happen.

That's enough ruminating for now. I've got four hungry friends coming for dinner tonight and I need to walk to the store and buy some food! Plus, I've been inside lounging around since yesterday evening and I'm starting to go stir crazy. I'm loving all of this free time to sleep, rest, think, write, draw and cook, though. This is the most free time I've had in years! However, I have definitely been getting out there and getting to know folks. On Wednesday night we had our small group at church (a different group of friends from the Discipleship Year) and afterwards several of us went out for a drink at the local pub. I tried Belgium cherry beer and it was yummy! Thursday night a small group friend, James, invited me out for a real British pub quiz at a pub across town. However, the scheduled pub quiz (where everyone is in teams and compete against each other) never happened, so we at our table had our own quiz instead by playing 20 Questions and had a great time. Tonight there's an "Irish party" where you're supposed to either come "dressed Irish" or bring Guinness. I might go over with my dinner guests, or maybe we'll just hang out here having fun together. Tomorrow the round begins again as I serve at both church services: First teaching Sunday School and then doing set-up at the evening service.

I am learning so much, incidentally, about how churches work and about the Vineyard. Yesterday the Trent Vineyard senior pastors John and Debby Wright (whom we don't have much contact with) did a very honest Q&A with the disciples and it was fascinating. I also read Carol Wimber's biography of John Wimber, founder of the Vineyard movement. It was a great read and very moving. I love how John's whole life was about serving Jesus in a totally normal, natural way. "I'm just a fat man on his way to heaven," he'd say. I guess that's my goal for this year...to be "just a short girl on her way to heaven!"

 
 
 
 

1. Tim Hulett (pronounced "Hue-lay" ... OK, not really, but that's what Tim wishes)buys Stephanie her very first drink in her very first English pub. It's a London Pride bitter, and she drinks it quickly and happily so as to impress the Brits and not "put America to shame."

2. Jen and Kristen show off the den (fort) that Team 1 built during the Great Discipleship Year Team Competition. Stephanie, Jen, Kristen, Robin and Alex built the fort within 15 minutes using assorted furniture and blankets from Rush House. Sadly, their fort came in last out of three. The judges (whom we suspect were partial) said that, while creative, the fort looked too much like a boudoir and not a place "where we'd like to spend a lot of time."

3. Stephanie and Kristen display the cozily decorated interior of their fort, which includes a light, book, camping tool and bottle of water.

4. Timmy the cat claims his favorite spot on Stephanie's bed (back in Beeston) and handily displaces Snickers the stuffed cat at the same time.

 
 
 
 

1. Check out the gorgeous view from my second-story bedroom window in Beeston (Nottingham).
2. A sweeping look at Rush House, the country house in Northamptonshire where the Discipleship Year team got to knwo one another during our weekend away.
3. A pastoral scene across the road from Rush House. Yes, the English countryside looks in real life just like it does in the movies.
4. The Discipleship Year 2007-2008 team poses for a dignified group shot in the meadows.

The London Eye

 
 
 
 

This tourist attraction costs 15 pounds ($30) but is totally worth it because it gives an amazing view of the city and reveals its scope and size and history. The London Eye was actually being built during my previous visit to London in November 1999, and I remember sitting along the Thames, journaling, watching the cranes and being sad I wouldn't get to see the final product. But when I asked Nikhita if she'd mind going up, she was very happy to oblige, especially as she hasn't done it for four years.

"This is such a brilliant way to see London!" she kept exclaiming. "I can't believe I forgot how clever it is."

It was very helpful having a Londoner there to show me all of the sights. She pointed out Buckingham Palace (the photo that's a bit washed out but with the river leading straight through St. James Park to the palace); her workplace where she is a reporter for the Sunday Mirror; the various football (aka soccer) stadiums; the County House where rich people live and they have various exhibitions (right now it's Star Wars); and several other sights.

Earlier in the day we went to the Tate Modern art museum, which is simply fantastic (to quote N.) It was really great because it was free and the audio tour was only 2 pounds. Trust me, you need an audio tour for modern art. I saw wonderful sculptures and paintings in the modern, abstract, post-impressionist, cubist, futurist, vorticist and abstract expressionism styles. I was particularly impressed with a room where the curator placed a giant Monet water lily painting on one wall and surrounded it with three other paintings done about 40 years later by Mark Rothko, Jackson Pollock and ... and ... shoot, I've forgotten! But it was someone noteworthy. The point was to show how each of these three painters, who were revered for their new forms of artistic expression after the war, actually were inspired by Monet's impressionism. I also learned that the critics of his day (1916 and so on) actually disliked Monet's water lily paintings and dismissed them as "mere wallpaper" without form, perspective and function and that "they would look the same if they were hung upside down." Their genius wasn't actually discovered until Rothko, Pollock and others made waves with abstract expressionism and it became clear what a great debt was owed to Monet.

I could go on and on about all of the cool stuff in the Tate (which is an amazing building in and of itself) but will restrain myself now. :) I only wish my mom, and Corrie, and some of my other art loving friends could have been there with me.

It's also been so wonderful staying in London with Nikhita. Not only am I staying in a friend's home, but I'm with someone who has a car, who knows the city inside and out, and with whom I get the real scoop. She points out the clubs where the princes hang out and tells me all the "goss" about various celebrities (she gets it all in her job). It's also been nice seeing how real people live in the city and not just staying in a hostel or wandering around on my own with a guidebook (though I like doing that, too). Nikhita's new flat is in a neighborhood that is building itself back up in property value and reputation, and her adorable little place is on a courtyard that's simply bursting with English roses and plants. Apparently special needs adults tend the garden as part of a program, which is a wonderful benefit for the homeowners who live in the building.

We had fun yesterday running errands and fixing things up around her flat (she just moved in last week). Actually, Nikhita had errands to run in the morning and insisted I sleep in, which I did until 11:30 a.m. Ooops. Jet lag is alive and well. (I shorted myself on sleep last night, though, so I can get on schedule tonight). Then I lounged around her place watching the BBC and making breakfast and taking a shower and just not doing anything at all, which was actually a very refreshing change from the manic pace I've been living the last month or so. After Nikhita came home we went out to explore her new neighborhood and discovered the Purple cafe (I am sitting outside it now drinking tea and watching evening fall) and checked out some thrift stores that line the high street (aka main road). I was looking for a hair dryer and hair straightener with English plugs, but didn't find any yet. Sus tells me sadly that in England there's just no place like Unique (our Chicago favorite).

Then we went to pick up Nikhita's car from the dealer where she'd taken it in that mroning, and I had the surreal experience of sitting in a dealership in Surrey as people came in and out chatting with the clerks. Here's the surreal part: I couldn't understand most of what was said! My ears are still adjusting to the many Enlish accents and different words and I've realized I have to listen very closely to follow an entire conversation. I'll get there, though. Nikhita had to transact my train ticket buying today because I couldn't understand the British Rail woman over the phone and she couldn't understand me. She had a very strong Yorkshire accent, Nikhita said.

Nikhita does not know how to cook but is very keen to learn, so yesterday stopped at the grocery store to buy ingredients for what I call Dad Spaghetti and what she calls Spaghetti Bolognese. It was actually very tricky shopping and cooking because of how different everything is: It's not ground beef, it's minced beef. I don't set the oven to 250 degrees Fahrenheit for garlic bread, because it's in Celsius. In fact, I don't set the oven at all, because it is electric and controlled by all of these funny digital buttons with switches that make absolutely no sense to me. I have to get Nikhita to do it. I do adore, however, the creamy English butter. It made crafting garlic bread a simple joy. Anyway, I showed N. how to make the spaghetti, garlic bread and brownies (albeit from a mix) and she was enchanted and is telling everyone, "Stephanie taught me how to make spaghetti bolognese!" We had dinner with a friend of hers and the meal turned out very well, indeed, despite all of the differences in cookery (their word for cooking). I think I'm going to get a food column out of that experience!

So this post is now incredibly long and my fingers are actually starting to get cold as I sit outside. A purple fan labeled "Bushell's Removals" in bright yellow letters just drove by, horns honking. I have absolutely no idea what that means. There's so much I don't understand here, and I have been bombarding Nikhita with endless questions. "What does off license and fully licensed mean?" I ask as we pass convenience stores (they can sell liquor). "What's a congestion charge?" (an 8 pound fee you have to pay on an electric card to drive into Central London, though the nice man at the corner shop gave her a whole week's worth points for just 4 pounds). "What the heck is going on with the whole public/private school thing?" (Any parent who pays tuition for their kids to go school is sending them to a public school, although sometimes they'e called private schools. The free government schools are called "state schools." A public schoolboy is some privileged kid who attends a really posh school. Very, very odd). And etc.

Love to all from London. Tomorrow I head up to Nottingham, my home for the next 11 months! But Nikhita has assured me that I always have a place to stay in London whenever I want to visit. Bless her.