Sunday Senses: I Press Toward the Mark

I was assigned to give a talk in Sacrament today.  I think me speaking around Christmas and the New Year is beginning to become some kind of annual tradition (this is the 4th year in a row).  Anyway, I'm working on a post with lots of photos and updates about my holiday doings in the old world, but I may wait until after New Years to publish it.  In the mean time, I thought I'd share my talk with you.  Some of my fellow ward members requested copies of it, so I'm hoping it's of some worth.  It's a little unpolished - as most speech guides are - and is a terrible mash-up of UK and US spelling, but hopefully it still carries the same heart and sentiment in print that it did in voice.

I Press Toward the Mark (Sacrament talk – 29/12/2012)

New Year – a time of resolutions, new beginnings, looking to the future, and remembering the past.  Last year around this time my life experienced a great change. It was unexpected, unwanted, and abruptly interrupted the life path I thought I was to follow, not only for the immediate future, but for the long term.  As the New Year rolled around and the initial shock and pain began to wear off, I realized I needed to re-evaluate my future, and start to move on with my life.

I had no idea at the time that I would end up in England. In fact, for a long time I had no idea of anything, and it seemed that God wanted me to flounder in the dark, to “wander in the wilderness” so to speak.  But, looking back (as hindsight always seems to give us clearer vision) I realize that God was giving me time – time to learn from what had happened, time to heal, and time to make sure I was making sound decisions for the right reasons moving forward.

As we come to look toward a new year, I’d like to share a few things I learned in the process:

Faith always points forward.

It is a simple but true gem of a statement spoken by an inspired High Council member in a time when I really needed it. He continued:

The past is to be learned from, not lived in; don’t let your attachment to the past outweigh your confidence in the future. – HC Member, Nephi, UT

I love simple yet powerful statements; when others are able to touch and share in a few short words the concepts so many of us struggle to grasp and understand within.  There are some wonderful short and sweet passages in the scriptures that further emphasize these words…

Go forward not backward. - D&C 128:22 

Look not behind thee... - Gen 19:17 

 Remember Lot’s wife… - Luke 17:32 

..but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before. I press toward the mark… - Phil 3:13

Man’s agency is God’s limitation, but it is also his strength.

Through my trial and experience I learned that God has a limit; but it is self-imposed.  That limit is our agency.  He could interfere, but He won’t – it is counterproductive and would negate the plan of salvation.  (One of the many reasons for this principle can be found in Alma 14:8-11 in the book of Mormon.) Many, if not the majority, of our trials come not necessarily from the direct will of God, but from the consequences of the actions of others and ourselves. God must allow us, each and every one of us, to make choices and act on our own agency, whether for good or bad.  This doesn't just apply to horribly evil or large saintly decisions either – it applies to the everyday kind of good, or not so good, or maybe it could be good choices that make up our daily lives.

Initially this concept was really difficult for me to accept; it didn't shake my faith in God, but my faith in man had been severely affected. How could I possibly have faith in a future that was limited by the agency and decisions of others? I felt powerless, like a leaf left to blow in the wind of others choices. But, as I pondered and studied and prayed for faith and understanding to move forward. I came to a realization: Just as our exercising our agency to choose bad things disables God, so does using our agency to choose His path empower Him. 

Our agency, our choice, is powerful. Miracles happen – or cease to happen as the case may be – in the world because of the choices we make to give them power by faith. One of the best examples of this is as old as time, that of Adam and Eve in the Garden.  Their mission, their role in the plan of salvation was to make a choice, to choose to follow one path or another; and their decision effected every generation that was to follow them for eternity - it became the catalyst for the plan of salvation. Their choice was to progress, to learn from experience, to move forward.

We never lose the power to change or the potential to become better.

Faith in God and mankind is a delicate balancing act of hope and acceptance.  After spending several months working through the grieving and acceptance process, and trying to figure out these complex issues related to the sometimes perplexing dichotomies of faith, agency, miracles, and our human faults and limitations, I learned a lesson about redemption and renewal in a rather unexpected and unorthodox place.

This last May I travelled home to spend time with my family.  My mother, grandfather, and I all have birthdays within consecutive days, and we often celebrate together with a big extended family party – usually on my grandfather’s birthday as his falls in the middle of the three.  When I travel home my mother takes some vacation days from work so that we can spend time together.  This year however, she had a work commitment she needed to keep on the day of my birthday, and she invited me to come along.  My mother works as drug counsellor in a rehab program in a state prison.

So, on the morning of my 28^th birthday I found myself navigating through security gates, metal detectors, and corridors of locked power doors to attend the graduation ceremony of a few dozen inmates from a drug rehabilitation program.  Out of the numerous men graduating only two or three had family members present and the majority of the audience was made up of prison staff and other inmates in the program.  There were several speakers from amongst the staff and inmates, and a lot of information shared about the program itself. With all these formalities, the thing that made the biggest impression on me was a skit a few of the graduates performed towards the end of the ceremony.

Four inmates, shaking with nerves and excitement, their muscular frames scarred, tattooed, and costumed in homemade props crafted from tape and coloured paper, acted out a short story.  The story was about a man named Addiction.  Addiction was on a quest to find Sobriety, the great and powerful being that could free him from his troubles.  On his quest Addiction kept suffering setbacks, caused by the terrible fiend Relapse. Fortunately for Addiction, he met up with a committed and strong friend named Rehab, who was able to assist by providing him with the tools and the support needed to defeat Relapse and find Sobriety. Sobriety, upon hearing of the quest and Addiction’s desires to better himself, changed his name to Recovery, as reward for his efforts and representative of the choice and commitment he was making to change and move forward.  Note that his name was not changed to Recovered – an end result, but instead to Recovery – an on-going process.  Sobriety counselled the newly named Recovery to continue to utilize the skills and tools he had obtained from Rehab and always remember the experiences he had learned from along the way, as he continued his future lifelong quest to become like Sobriety.

The significance of the symbolism in the name change was not lost on me – there are numerous stories, legends, scriptures, and practices which utilize the name change as a symbol of a changed and renewed man.  What struck me the most in that moment was the indestructible and amazing ability of man to change.  These men, who through bad choices, bad circumstances, and most likely a tragic combination of both, had ended up locked away in the dungeons of society, many for a long time.  These men, with all their worldly autonomy, agency, and daily life choices stripped away from them, still had one amazing power than no prison walls, or hand-cuffs, or standard issue jump suit could take away from them – the ability to change, and to change for the better.

Some accounts of life changing moments are epic tales of angelic visions or physical transformations, but we don’t need be struck dumb or have angels charge us with fiery admonitions to have a change of heart. We only need the desire, and the right tools to help us fulfill that desire. We just need to take the sacrament on Sundays, and say our prayers and read our scriptures and consciously try to be better every day.  The change likely won’t be as immediate or dramatic as those caused by angelic visions, but it is constant, and consistent. It is daily rehab – daily renewal of choices, commitments, and desires – that helps us to progress and become better day by day. No matter where we are in our own stories, in our own personal conversions and conversations with God – whether in the winding down of a long life or the winding up of young one,  whether celebrating at the apex of success with everything in the world at our feet, or sitting in a prison cell with all our worldly choices and agency stripped away – there is one thing that is never taken from us, and that is our ability to change, to grow, to choose to become better, to renew ourselves, to move forward with faith.

Moving Forward

They say the only constant in life is change, but I would like to respectfully disagree; or rather, amend that to include something else, and that is the eternal and unbiased consistency of the love of God, and his never ending patience and care in helping us to adapt and learn from change.  The gospel, the atonement, and their power to renew will always be available to us, no matter our circumstances, if we but choose to recognize and accept them.

But continue thou in the things which thou hast learned and hast been assured of, knowing of whom thou hast learned them. – 2 Tim 3:14

Now, unfortunately – or fortunately I guess, depending on how you look at it – no matter how much we may want to, we can never force good choices on others, and as good as we try to be, we will in all likelihood still make mistakes ourselves.  We can and will hurt, and can and will be hurt by others, no matter how idyllic our aspirations. But, don’t lose hope, for tomorrow is a new day, a new opportunity; and remember- faith always points forward, agency is powerful, and we never lose our potential to change for the better.

On Stepping Back

When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people.

-Abraham Joshua Heschel

I've made a decision to step back and take an indefinite break from the news and social media. My blog will still remain active for now, with posts of my experiences and thoughts, but that too may change, depending.  My heart is weary of negativity; the arguments, the personal attacks, the impassioned crusades - against not only policies and ideals, but against each other.  The world is full of terrible things, and our human shortcomings are painfully obvious when something large and socially tragic happens. Our faith in mankind can be disillusioned. But it's even more disheartening when instead of rallying together, we take our anger, our hurt, and our helplessness out on one another.

I recently made the mistake of expressing a political opinion online; a hard lesson learned that I will not soon forget. Not necessarily because I recant my position or committed a fallacy, but rather because I didn't think of the possible repercussions or realize the personal pain and ugliness that sharing an opinion in such a form might bring.  Social media has never been a big thing for me...at least, it wasn't until I moved across the sea, where it became a lifeline for familiar and friendly connections; a way to combat the loneliness and isolation that can come from uprooting your life and moving thousands of miles away from those you love.

Life can be hard, but I try to focus on the positive.  I love to share things, especially things that are good - like music, recipes, articles, or simple daily moments of happiness and contentment. Some may view my constant stream of updates about dancing, dining, and visits to ancient castles as representative of an idealistic and fairy tale life.  Comments such as "Jealous!", "Wow, your life is amazing!", and "I want your life!" have not been uncommon replies.  It may seem that way because I choose - and will continue to choose - to share the good things; to try and perpetuate the happiness and joy I feel in those moments when I love my life.  But I too have difficulties, just like everyone else.

I don't regret my move - I know why I'm here and I love what I'm doing.  I am every day grateful for the opportunity I've been given to improve my life and myself, and to spend a year in such a beautiful and historic place in the world.  But that doesn't mean it's easy.  I am surrounded by wonderful people, but building intimate and meaningful connections takes time, and while I am kept more than busy with my studies and schoolwork (and all the various student life accompaniments) there are still hours of isolation to fill and personal demons to face.

I know that life can be difficult for everyone at times, and I am terribly sorry if you've had a hard day, or a hard year, or a hard life - but please realize I didn't post or write about dancing in castles, or hosting dinner parties, or spending the day reading classic literature to mock or outdo you.  I shared in an effort to bring positive affirmation to my day; to remind myself to recognize the goodness and blessings in my life that I should be thankful for.  I am trying to be a more positive and grateful person even in the face of personal hardship; and I share them online because there is no one next to me to whisper to, because you are a pool of people I care about and think enough of to want to share the adventures of my life with.

I'm not sure why we find it so easy to hurt one another in the digital realm - maybe it's the lack of internal filters we would otherwise employ if we were physically in front of someone; maybe our fingers are more prone to malice than our voices; maybe it's because we don't have to see and face the hurt that we may cause; maybe it's because we're hurting, and attacking the invisible person in cyberspace is easier than attacking the emotions that lie within ourselves.  

Before we let our anger get the better of us, let's remember - words don't just magically appear online.  They were typed by fingers; fingers connected to a human body with a human heart and human feeling; fingers that caress in love and wipe away tears in anguish and sorrow; fingers that may point in accusation but also beckon in remorse;  fingers that belong to someone you know and love; fingers that, just like yours, are reaching out, trying to connect and make sense of the confusion in the world around them. I won't begrudge you some cathartic venting (we all need that sometimes), but think before you type. Practice patience and restraint, as a disciplined tongue is a strength not a weakness. We are all entitled to various opinions and the free expression of them, but no online victory is worth the loss of the tender feelings of those we love. 

*photo credit: http://imperfectspirituality.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/Heart-shaped-hands-and-compassion.jpg

We Will Have to Change

Friday’s horrific national tragedy—the murder of 20 children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut—has ignited a new discussion on violence in America. In kitchens and coffee shops across the country, we tearfully debate the many faces of violence in America: gun culture, media violence, lack of mental health services, overt and covert wars abroad, religion, politics and the way we raise our children. -The Blue Review

There has been a lot going on in the world of politics, society, and humanity in my home country since I left this last Autumn.  I have no desire to make political arguments a part of my blog.  I am wary of political culture - it's ugly, accusatory, and divisive. I do have my opinions, and I'll gladly share them with you personally if you ask.

Today, I just wanted to share the words of others addressing some issues from a personal and societal perspective.  These messages struck a cord with me, and I think they speak to the humanity (not policy) within all of us. I found them significant, and I hope you may see their value as well - regardless of political or religious affiliations.

Once again,a piece of my perspective voiced through the eloquent words of others:

We, as a nation, we are left with some hard questions. Someone once described the joy and anxiety of parenthood as the equivalent of having your heart outside of your body all the time, walking around. With their very first cry, this most precious, vital part of ourselves — our child — is suddenly exposed to the world, to possible mishap or malice. And every parent knows there is nothing we will not do to shield our children from harm. And yet, we also know that with that child's very first step, and each step after that, they are separating from us; that we won't — that we can't always be there for them. They'll suffer sickness and setbacks and broken hearts and disappointments. And we learn that our most important job is to give them what they need to become self-reliant and capable and resilient, ready to face the world without fear.

And we know we can't do this by ourselves. It comes as a shock at a certain point where you realize, no matter how much you love these kids, you can't do it by yourself. That this job of keeping our children safe, and teaching them well, is something we can only do together, with the help of friends and neighbors, the help of a community, and the help of a nation. And in that way, we come to realize that we bear a responsibility for every child because we're counting on everybody else to help look after ours; that we're all parents; that they're all our children.

This is our first task — caring for our children. It's our first job. If we don't get that right, we don't get anything right. That's how, as a society, we will be judged.

And by that measure, can we truly say, as a nation, that we are meeting our obligations? Can we honestly say that we're doing enough to keep our children — all of them — safe from harm? Can we claim, as a nation, that we're all together there, letting them know that they are loved, and teaching them to love in return? Can we say that we're truly doing enough to give all the children of this country the chance they deserve to live out their lives in happiness and with purpose?

I've been reflecting on this the last few days, and if we're honest with ourselves, the answer is no. We're not doing enough. And we will have to change.

We can't tolerate this anymore. These tragedies must end. And to end them, we must change. We will be told that the causes of such violence are complex, and that is true. No single law — no set of laws can eliminate evil from the world, or prevent every senseless act of violence in our society.

But that can't be an excuse for inaction. Surely, we can do better than this. If there is even one step we can take to save another child, or another parent, or another town, from the grief that has visited Tucson, and Aurora, and Oak Creek, and Newtown, and communities from Columbine to Blacksburg before that — then surely we have an obligation to try.

We can't accept events like this as routine. Are we really prepared to say that we're powerless in the face of such carnage, that the politics are too hard? Are we prepared to say that such violence visited on our children year after year after year is somehow the price of our freedom?

We know our time on this Earth is fleeting. We know that we will each have our share of pleasure and pain; that even after we chase after some earthly goal, whether it's wealth or power or fame, or just simple comfort, we will, in some fashion, fall short of what we had hoped. We know that no matter how good our intentions, we will all stumble sometimes, in some way. We will make mistakes, we will experience hardships. And even when we're trying to do the right thing, we know that much of our time will be spent groping through the darkness, so often unable to discern God's heavenly plans.

There's only one thing we can be sure of, and that is the love that we have — for our children, for our families, for each other. The warmth of a small child's embrace — that is true. The memories we have of them, the joy that they bring, the wonder we see through their eyes, that fierce and boundless love we feel for them, a love that takes us out of ourselves, and binds us to something larger — we know that's what matters. We know we're always doing right when we're taking care of them, when we're teaching them well, when we're showing acts of kindness. We don't go wrong when we do that.

-Pres Obama, excerpts from Sandy Hook Interfaith Prayer Vigil (full transcript: http://www.npr.org/2012/12/16/167412995/transcript-president-obama-at-sandy-hook-prayer-vigil)

Articles related to the complex issues that I find relevant: 

I am Adam Lanza's Mother
Newtown's Grief Should Be a Rallying Cry

And, a short but wonderful video:

Sunday Senses: I am a Mormon Because I am a Feminist

In lieu of my own words, which are often so difficult to formulate from the complicated webs of thought and feeling that constantly flow through my mind and heart, I share the words of another - who has expressed my perspective so much better than I ever could.

Just click on the link:  I am a Mormon Because I am a Feminist

Dear Santa: Boyfriend Wanted

Well, the Christmas season is here and even though I am busy with papers and seminars and end of term craziness, I have found a little time to get myself into the holiday spirit with Christmas carols and twinkling strands of warm white lights.  As my Christmas list this year is somewhat difficult for Santa’s elves to fabricate in the shop - and isn't listed under Amazon’s super saver shipping items - I figured I would help the old guy out and reduce his pre-Christmas Day work load (and thus increase the chance of wish granting) by placing the outsourcing advertisement myself.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Boyfriend Wanted
Position has high potential for future promotion.

Must love good food,
remote global destinations,
barefoot kitchen dancing,
Sunday afternoon naps,
and the scent of vanilla.

No particular height, build, ethnicity,
or social/political affiliation required,
but would prefer a kind and considerate
actively God-loving man
between the ages of 28-38.

Personalities similar to
Dick van Dyke,
Bill Cosby,
and Donald O’Conner
are highly encouraged
but others will not be discriminated.

Good dancing skills a plus;
equal consideration will be given for
a willingness to learn,
not taking yourself too seriously,
and the ability to make me laugh in the process.

                                                   Ill-tempers,

stingy tippers,
inconstants,
and temporary thrill seekers
need not bother to apply.

Must be okay with short hair,
companionable silences,
witty banter (aka sarcasm),
smiling while kissing,
and small but meaningful expressions of joy.

Should be willing to accept that future companion
has occasional insecurities,
possesses the ability to change when necessary,
is loyal to a fault,
and will love you beyond all reason.

Likes to attend ballets, kiddy movies, and county fairs,
wears classic heels and fancy dresses,
Keds, jeans and white t-shirts,
and considers make-up an enhancing accessory
but not a necessity.

  Resemblances of
Mary Poppins,
Martha Stewart,
Audrey Hepburn,
and McGuyver have been alluded to.
(Although she doubts the validity of these claims.)

Has a tendency to obsess over birthdays,
a fear of centipedes,
an intense dislike of fennel,
is attracted to anything red,
and listens to Christmas music year round.

You will be subject to experimental recipes,
shower singing,
dinner party hosting,
outbursts of random sidewalk skipping,
and lots of physical affection.

All that’s wanted are forehead kisses,
someone to share experiences with,
a willingness to try,
honesty,
and the opportunity to make your heart smile.

You may have to initially convince
and occasionally remind her
that you really do love her too.

          Address all applications ℅ St. Nicholas, Santa’s Workshop, North Pole. Please post no later 

than December 20th, as he will need time to conduct all relevant Naughty or Nice checks 

and arrange for under the tree delivery by December 25th.

P.S. Don’t despair if you’re not chosen this time around, as experience shows this position may be available 
again in future (although all concerned parties are hoping it won’t be).

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(*credit for inspiration must be given to a stumbled upon post by Matthew Gray Gubler.)

Thanksgiving (sort of)

I LOVE Thanksgiving.  It is my favorite holiday. I love the cooking, the prepping, the food, the eating. I love spending the day doing nothing but visiting with family and friends and new people that come along.  I love eating leftovers for days afterward. I love it's simplicity: cook a lot of food, eat a lot of food, share it with a lot of people you love, make a lot of people happy.

This year, living in a country devoid of Thanksgiving (!) I was to supposed to spend the day attending class debates and lectures and working on papers. Instead, by an un/fortunate(?) twist of fate I get to spend it in bed with the flu. (Dear God, this is not what I meant when I said I'd rather spend the holiday at home.) Although I must say, it has helped to ease the longing for a full Thanksgiving meal.

This is my first non-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving in, well, my entire 28 years.  My childhood was filled with large and loving holiday meals at my various grandparents homes (I have an exceptionally large extended family - the 'mangrove forest' as I like to refer to it), some with two or three turkeys, dozens of pies, and a few hundred family members and friends rotating in and out of the doors.  I brought the tradition to Boston with me, and have hosted/co-hosted a dinner every year for the last five years.  The first year there was just three of us, and a lot of leftovers (as I insisted on cooking the traditional Thanksgiving menu in it's entirety).  It grew over time and last year there were around fifty - we had to borrow tables and chairs from the church and rearrange all the furniture.  It was wonderful.

Don't feel too badly for me this year.  While I'm spending today sipping broth and eating soda crackers, my co-eds have given me the opportunity to host a traditional Thanksgiving Dinner the first week of December, after all the craziness of term paper and assignment deadlines has passed.  Most of them have never had a true American Thanksgiving meal and I'm very excited to share my favorite holiday with them, even if it's not on a Thursday in November.

Speaking of thanksgiving - in the voicing your gratitude sense - here are a few snapshots of life here in the UK, an experience that I am every day grateful for and which wouldn't be possible without the support of my loving family and friends.

Visitors, a good English fry up, and packages full of goodies from family and friends.

My little kitchen, cookbooks, a basil plant, comfort food on a rainy day, and delightful things like Essence of Rose Water.

My little flat, with its high ceilings, carved crown moldings, and big bright windows.

Cycling through Bushy Park, St. Marks Church across the street, sunsets, and the tree outside my window.

The opportunity to study amazing, interesting, and important things with wonderful people.

Though Poppies Grow

Remembrance Day ~ Armistice Day ~ Veteran's Day

Today I wore a Poppy.

In Flanders Fields

   

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

   That mark our place; and in the sky

   The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

   Loved and were loved, and now we lie

         In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

   The torch; be yours to hold it high.

   If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

         In Flanders fields.

-Lietenant Colonal John McCrae

*Working on my next update.  This took precedence.

London So Far

I've been in London for nearly a month now.  It's been wonderful, and hectic, and taken forever, and gone by so fast all the same time.  I'm attending University in Kingston-upon-Thames, a beautiful little ancient borough of South West London. (A little stat for those who worry, it also happens to be the safest and quietest borough in all of London.)  I live in the neighboring town of Surbiton, which is  not a part of London proper, although there is some confusion and historical debate of Kingston's London jurisdiction - it's technically located in Surrey, the same county as Surbiton.

While the process of finding a flat (for those unfamiliar with UK lingo - an apartment) is a very long, complicated, and dramatic story all it's own, I was able to find a cozy little studio on quiet little avenue in Surbiton, a mere ten minute walk from the University campus. It's a beautiful Victorian mansion conversion with large windows, high ceilings, and detailed crown molding.  I moved in just over two weeks ago and have been enjoying the always entertaining if laborious process of furnishing and decorating on a budget.  Luckily, between IKEA, the local charity shops (second hand stores), Amazon, and a few already included furnishings I have been able to create a cozy and comfortable little home.  There are still a few items I need, but Reza and Aash - an eccentric experienced grandfather and practical business smart young man duo that run an "antique" shop in the nieghborhood - are on the lookout for me.

Reza and Aash are two of my favorite new neighborhood acquaintances.  Just yesterday they found me a great deal on a bike and some large picture frames - half of which Reza threw in for the cost of the bike.  They usually invite me to stay for tea or coffee, and after explaining why I decline based on religious reasons, Reza has now sent Aash on a quest to purchase non-caffeinated herbal teas and juices so I can stay next time. I think Reza has an agenda with inviting me to stay and chat and trying to convince Aash to carry my purchases home for me...we're usually both red in the face by the end of the sale.  I always have an immensely good time doing business with them and will be a little sad when my furnishing project is over.  I may have to keep thinking of other random hard to find things I may need, so I have an excuse to stop and haggle... ;)

My program is going well and will be getting quite busy here in a few weeks.  Good thing I'm mostly settled. I'm adapting to school again and have had a relatively easy time adjusting to British life.  I guess Japan, Haiti, and Ghana were good outlier experiences, making England much less of a leap.  (My love for all things Austen and Dickens, as well as old school British comedy probably didn't hurt any either.)

Things I Love, Things I Don't 

• The History:  The palaces (I'm already a member of the Historical Palace Society - free unlimited access to all local historical palaces all year round), the architecture, the gardens, the character and detail on everything. Everything has a story. I could live here the rest of my life and still never see or learn it all. Of course a lot of history also means that everything is old, and drafty, including the plumbing. 

• Size: I love that everything is smaller - the cars, restaurant servings, grocery and home goods packaging, produce (a strawberry the size of a strawberry, not an apple!).  Rooms and homes are also much smaller. I don't mind, as its all relative and smaller is much more my size. :)  My only complaint - the kitchen!  My flat has, as most do, what is known as a "kitchenette".  Basically a closet with a single basin sink, a convection oven microwave, a small double burner stove top, and no counter space. Not ideal for my usual culinary practices, but I'm viewing it as a challenge to master. I already have classmates interested in trying an American Thanksgiving dinner (I'm the only American in my program and it's a very culturally diverse class).  Think I can pull of cooking a full on traditional Thanksgiving dinner in a closet?  A game plan is already in the works. Bring it on!

• The Food:  The cuisine here and I are definitely in a love/hate relationship.  As mentioned above, smaller portions are on my pros list.  I love the breads and outdoor markets and wide variety of international dishes available. I love some pub foods but not others. I adore Sunday roasts and Yorkshire pudding (not pudding in the American sense, but rather a bread - check out the photo of a traditional Sunday roast dinner in my photo collage above), clotted cream, lemon curd, fish and chips, and currant berry teas.  Dark chocolate digestives are going to be my downfall.  I'm not so much a fan of haggis, or kidney/liver pie, or many of the other meat based concoctions. Pie crust - especially for savory pies - is disappointing and tasteless, as it's just a mixture of four and water formed for the sole purpose of cooking the filling, and is rarely eaten and simply discarded.  Sad, as the crisp,flaky, buttery pie crust is my favorite part! I also can't find traditional American style dill pickles...everything here is sweet or bread and butter.  Yuck.  Pickles should not be sweet.

• The Cost:  This is also a win/lose situation.  Many things are comparative in price to Boston, another expensive cost of living city.  Cell phones are cheap and easy to get.  Home internet service isn't bad, but is a complicated mess to set up - going on three weeks and I still don't have mine....  International Euro travel is amazingly temptingly cheap, but domestic transport is expensive. (Hence the bike and close proximity to campus). Rent is steep, but comparative to Boston in Surbiton.   Stationary - ie paper goods such as pens, post-its, highlighters, etc. - is outrageously expensive! Why? Groceries, home goods, clothes, and other things can be expensive but also affordable. Just like anywhere else, there's a wide variety of stores and shops in a wide price range...you just need to know where to shop!

• The Weather:  I'm neutral on this point.  It's very like Boston, all four seasons in one day, all the time. I have my wellies ready by the door and carry a sweater, an umbrella, and sunglasses in my bag at all times. 

• No 1 complaint:  The lack of my favorite cleaning supplies. Sigh....

• No 1 love:  I'm living in London!  What can I really complain about...

I've done a little sightseeing since arriving - figured I'd fit as much in as I can before school gets busy and the weather becomes unpleasant.  I've taken photos of some of my excursions but not all.  Partly because I selfishly wanted to absorb and be present in some of my new first time adventures (cameras and photo taking, while fun, can be a bit distracting from the feeling of the moment), and partly because I will be returning to some of these places many times over the course of the next year, and wanted to wait until I was familiar with them and find the best season and time of day for picture taking.

I've been to Hampton Court (no photos yet), which is just across the river from campus, a few times and have done a preliminary scouting tour of downtown London. A more thorough visit to Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, the London Eye, and other downtown attractions are forthcoming.  I was hoping to take a tour of Buckingham Palace, which is only open for tours in August and September of each year while the Queen is on holiday in Scotland, but have been so busy with finding a flat, moving, school, and other necessary things that I wasn't able to make it.  I guess it will have to wait until next summer. I did take a boat trip up the Thames to Greenwich, to explore the famous Greenwich market and straddle the Prime Meridian Line. I had a wonderful time wandering through the market and sampling all the delicious foods and goods. The made to order dulce de leche filled churros were amazing.  I ended up purchasing a vintage British scarf in a very vintage British shop from a vintage British lady as my take home souvenir.

Last weekend I traveled to Oxford to attend a Yule Ball held at the Oxford Bodleian Library (you know the setting for the great hall in the Harry Potter films...yeah, that's it). I strolled through the city center, visited the many university campuses, and spent the soft light of the early evening hours wandering the beautiful paths of Christ Church Meadow.  I regrettably did not have my camera with me, as I was spending the day carrying around a black chiffon ball gown and all associated accessories for the evenings festivities, but I did snap a few shots with my phone camera.  They don't nearly do justice to the beauty and majesty of the area, but it would be hard to capture, even with advanced equipment.  I may have to make another trip, if only to try. On Friday I rented a car and made the trip down to the London LDS Temple. It was a grey and rainy day - not ideal for taking photos, but a wonderful day to spend inside in quite wonder and contemplation.

I've posted some photos below.  I haven't included my flat yet, as there is still some work to finish before I document it, but here is a preliminary snapshot of one of my favorite spots in my new little home:

And everything else...

The Architectural Detail

Greenwich Meridian Line

Greenwich Market Goods

Greenwich Market Eats

Dulce de Leche Churros

Very Vintage British Shop

Oxford

London Temple

My Life in 4 Suitcases*

My life has been very busy lately.  Lately, of course, being ambiguously relevant to the ever fluctuating path my life seems to be taking - busy day, busy week, busy summer, busy year.   I don’t mean busy in any negative sense.  I think maybe a better term would be ‘full’.  My life has been very full lately, full of various common and wonderful things.  And when my life gets full my blog seems to become empty. 

I tend to want to apologize when I feel like I’ve abandoned my blog for too long, but then I rethink it...and decide not to.  Don’t get me wrong; I love this blog.  I love what it does for me and what it occasionally seems to do for others, but everything has it’s time and place and I don’t think anyone should ever have to apologize for spending less time sitting at a computer.  Especially when it’s summer and life is full of sunshine and adventure. 

So, I’m not going to apologize for not posting over these last few months because, well, there were just too many other things that ranked much higher on the priority list.  And, while I do appreciate loyal and vocal readers and encourage them to stay tuned, I hope you were also so busy living yourselves that you didn’t notice the absence of my online rambling too much. 

It has been a while though, and so I believe you are entitled to a summative update.  I was tempted to torture you with a more comprehensive one – detailed postings of all the things I’d wanted to share over the last few months – but lack of consistent internet access and a natural affinity for simplicity (not to mention the overwhelming backlog of work associated with accomplishing such a task) has caused me to defer to an easier method….Collages.  

My summer in brief:

Summertime in the City

Gardening: City and Country

Leaving Boston
Packing up and saying goodbye to a newly painted, reconstructed, refurnished, much worked and much loved home.

Cross-Country Train Ride

Summer Skies: Rain and Rainbows
(I saw rainbows every day in different parts of the country for 10 consecutive days.  Many sans camera.)

Sanpete County Fair and Rodeo

Homemade Ice Cream with the Preeces

Little Ones

Family

Now that I’ve caught you all up, for those who may have missed it, I’m now living in London. The Royal Borough of Kingston upon Thames to be precise.  I’ve been here for two weeks and am studying for an MSc in Hazards (aka Emergency) and Disaster Management.  Stay tuned for more detailed future updates on my new adventure. 

Here’s a sneak preview of my next post about life in London so far:

*The title comes from the one line explanation I gave to everyone that commented about the rather monstrous amount of luggage I had to pack around the country - well, the world - for over a month.  Basically, the last half of summer consisted of being a homeless nomad carrying around "my life in four suitcases" - a reply that Jennie so wonderfully pointed out would make a good book title.  Seeing as I haven't enough time (or content) with which to write my memoirs just yet, this blog post will have to suffice. :)

Two Songs

A lot to process, both physically and emotionally, as I prepare to leave Boston.  As I experience some of my "lasts" a complimentary dichotomy plays out in my heart and mind :   

Ambivalently letting go of the much loved and familiar...

....and yet eagerly anticipating a much desired but yet unknown future.

It's a peaceful and yet sad transition.  (Good goodbyes usually are.) A strange state of reassured limbo.

A Very Memorial Birthday Weekend to Me

This last Thursday the 24th of May was my Birthday.  To celebrate I travelled home to Utah to visit with family. My Mother, Grandfather, and I all have birthdays just a day apart!  It also, coincidentally, happened to be my ten year high school reunion and the weekend of the Scandinavian Festival. One of the best weekends of the year to be home - next to the week of the County Fair that is.

After hours travelling to see various family members, spending part of my Birthday in a prison at a drug rehab program graduation ceremony (a story for another time), visiting and catching up with old childhood friends, and walking around the festival with my adorable niece and nephew, I started thinking*.....

(*Yes, THINKING. Do not read into the following statement any lamenting, whining, regretting, or sorrowing. Just pure and simple thinking.)

With so much memory, history, and family surrounding me, it was interesting to look back and note how different my personal life is from what I thought it would be ten, five, or even just one year ago.  I'm in no hurry to rush my life, nor do I have the fatalistic view of life, love and adventure only being for the very young...  While at 28 I am still relatively young, with a medical condition that decreases fertility and the chances of conceiving with each passing year, one does tend to notice the continual advancement of the proverbial maternal clock.  I sometimes find myself wondering - Is motherhood in the cards for me?

Many things in life pertaining to age are relative (I mean, I believe age itself is relative), but there are a few things that are simple facts of biology and time is not their friend.  Advanced fertility treatments are not for me, and while adoption always has been and will be an option, it's something I'd rather tag-team with a supportive, excited, and willing eternal partner - a must have step for me before beginning to pursue the role of motherhood.

So this Birthday I began to think, or ponder if you so prefer, on the very real possibility that the role of "Mother" might not be mine in this life, and wonder... Am I okay with that?  Will I consider my life as fulfilling without adding that to my mortal list of accomplishments?  In reflecting on the last 28 years of my life, and after doing a little math, I came to this conclusion:

Although I have not obtained the official title of Mother, I have...

Changed 10,000+ diapers.

Helped to brush 200+ sets of teeth.

Sewn six Halloween costumes.

Built innumerable blanket forts.

Stomped through many sand castles.

Taught kids how to read, swim, and ride bikes.

Baked dozens of cookies.

Performed thousands of nap, bedtime, and bath time routines.

Kissed 2000+ scrapes and bruises.

Tackled the role of Tooth Fairy.

Calmed fevers and nightmares.

Folded baby laundry.

Supervised hundreds of hours of homework.

Included two imaginary friends.

Instigated precious moments of wonder.

Traipsed weekly to four different libraries.

Had countless tickle fights.

Broken up fights.

Continuously reinforced sharing.

Pushed strollers to the point of exhaustion.

Taken field trips.

Brought treats to soccer practice.

Watched dance recitals.

Assisted with twelve vacations.

Kept lots of secrets and pretended not to overhear others.

Taught about dinosaurs, space ships, colors, numbers, shapes, and sounds. 

Stopped bleeding.

Soothed crying.

Been chewed on, drooled on, puked on, and diaper-change-sprayed on.

Sung hundreds of lullaby's.

Intentionally lost many games and races.

Faced terrible tantrums.

Blown infinite bubbles.

Worn homemade paper birthday hats.

Hung misspelled handmade cards and letters on my fridge.

Played peek-a-boo and hide and seek.

Brought on limitless smiles.

Between Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Ghana, the hospitals I've worked at, and the schools I've volunteered for, several thousand children don't remember my name but they do have some memory of me as a loving caregiver.

My name has significant meaning to at least 128+ specific children in this world.  They know me and love me. 

And the list only continues to grow as the years come and go.

So, the answer is - Yes, I have decided I will be okay.  And happy.  I may or may not ever be called Mother (although it has accidentally happened in moments of childish excitement) but I wouldn't trade the title of "Janna" - or Jammy, Jamma, Nanna, Nanny, etc - for anything. No regrets. Lots of fulfillment.  Mother will only be the wonderful icing on top of an already amazing cake.

(There are thousands of photos I could put up here, including many precious ones from years gone by that are not available for instant upload on my computer, but here are a few I had on hand.)