Climb Every Mountain

Well not every mountain, but I climbed a mountain. If you are from a place where there actually are mountains you might argue with me about that, but for a woman from a sea level town, I climbed a mountain! I wasn’t planning to climb a mountain at all.  I am staying on the Isle of Iona, one of the Hebrides, which has hills but no mountains. I went on an excursion to the island of Staffa – another of the many islands flecking the Atlantic Ocean off Scotland’s west coast. I went on the excursion mainly for the ocean scenery and because I heard you could see Puffins there and that there was a cave where the sounds were so beautiful it inspired Mendelssohn. 

I didn’t know that Staffa was actually just a big mountain in the ocean. The geology is spectacular, it is made of volcanic rock actually of the exact formation as the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland – that formation extends from N. Ireland to Staffa.  So, when you arrive at the island you have two choices, you can hang out at the boat dock or you can scale the mountain to its grassy green top where you can wait patiently for the Puffins to appear. 

Full disclosure – when I was age 8 or 9 I followed my big brother up a mountainside in Arkansas.  He was much faster than me and I got lost in the trees and couldn’t find my way back down.  I stumbled and rolled a long way, ripped open the whole back of my thigh and was eventually stopped by a big tree.  I had to be rescued by some first responders of some sort.

Having rescued a panicked me more than once themselves, had my husband or daughter been with me on Staffa they would have recommended that I stay at the boat dock.  But I was alone, no traveling companion.  I looked up at the straight mountainside and pondered.  This was probably my only chance to see a Puffin in the wild.  I looked at the crazy stone steps and rickety aluminum ladder stairs that take one the first leg up.  I decided I should at least try.  I mustered up all my courage.  Not looking down or even around, I successfully maneuvered the steps that dropped me onto a grassy path.  I could see that the path went a long way to the tip of the island and that it went up and down through the hilly mountaintop.  I thought about just hanging out there in the grassy spot.  But the Puffins seemed so appealing, so I thought I would see how far I could go.  At times, the path gave out and I had to decide on a way.  That was scary.  Often the only way I could see was through muddy rocky streams and my boots weren’t exactly all terrain boots.  I planned every step carefully and kept my arms free to balance me when I hit slick spots.  Three times I stopped, looked around and thought I should not go any further, I am alone, I could panic or fall. 

But a beautiful thing happened on that mountain path, my late friend Rose Ann, the bird lover, joined me in spirit.  I could hear her coaxing me on, “you can do this Pat.”  And with her characteristic enthusiasm “You are not coming this far and missing out on seeing the Puffins!  Come on Pat, Puffins are important, you will be fine.”  And I remembered my mantra for this week, Do not worry about what you will eat or drink or wear or whether or not you will freeze to death, if God takes such care with the flowers and the bugs, God is surely looking after me.    

 Ya’ll I made it to the top and I laid down on my stomach on the edge of a cliff and took photos of the Puffins who had gathered just for me, I am sure.  

Apparently I am more able than I think I am.  Maybe I don’t have to panic with heights and cliff sides.  I have certainly pushed myself beyond all sorts of limits.  And, friends who knew her, it was precious, precious to spend some time with our friend Rose Ann.

I made it back down to the boat dock without a fall!  WooHoo – now go climb a mountain ya’ll, pursue a Puffin, see something you’ve never before seen.  Be brave.

And, if you are not already, join me in singing.....

Climb Every Mountain

A Canterbury Tale

This place is so inspiring.  Not that I've seen much of Canterbury.  My hotel is literally at the Cathedral Gate and due to a couple of obstacles I've not ventured beyond the old city centre.  But the Cathedral is why I came.  For 1400 years people have worshipped here. Boggles the brain.  There is story after story of the events of this place beginning with Augustine through WWII and still making history today with the inspiring work going on here.  The influx of pilgrims, of course, started with the murder of Thomas á Beckett while he was leading Evening Prayer for goodness sake!  His witness for doing the right thing, not what the king wanted, inspired people and they heard that miracles were occurring here so they started coming from everywhere.  And of course they made a big party out of their journeys.

The photo above is an altar at the spot of the murder.  Much around the Cathedral focuses on martyrdom, freedom from oppression and world peace.  Even with gobs of tourists (pilgrims) about, the Cathedral is a peaceful place to be.  The docents are the nicest I have every encountered.  They would just come up to me and start telling me stuff they thought might interest me.  The Cathedral Chaplain prayed in the nave with a microphone every hour - prayers for the world.  Then he would just wander around chatting, showing people things.  If it came up with any of the clergy I met (tons of clergy around here) or the docents that I was a clergy person they would take an interest in me and want to show me particular things - it was like a private tour.  A priest had sweet things to say about the Episcopal Diocese of Texas and said they are all praying for the ECUSA and everyone seemed to love the USA.  Refreshing!

One of my obstacles was getting sick during the night.  Surely it wasn't this lovely Beef and Ale pie?

Maybe the delicious strawberry that my taxi driver offered me as he asked if we had strawberries in the US.  I'm guessing their strawberry season is short as there was big excitement about having them. You can see the street vendor was nearly sold out.

I would definitely come back to Canterbury.  It is very touristy, what with so many pilgrims, but still it is wonderfully quaint and the people I've met are great.  I don't plan to go to Winchester, but for some reason this crazy song keeps rolling through my brain!

Winchester Cathedral

Grateful in Cambridge

Three days in Cambridge and in the morning I head out to Canterbury.  I am getting comfortable. Mr. Rogers was on my shoulder the first day reminding me to "Find the Helpers."  Which I did, once confessing I was near panic!  Most people have been kind and I've been very grateful.

I've attended Evensong services at King's College, Queen's College and St. John's College.  They were all beautiful and I think before long I'll be reciting the Apostle's Creed with a proper English "akcent"!  I heard my new accent as I said "the Holy Catholick Church" - which makes me snicker.

Mastering the bus system here has been a challenge, my brain is getting a real workout, but how appropriate for Cambridge, this seat of great learning.  I was walking near a couple of students happily chatting and listening to their conversation - ha!  I couldn't even understand what the heck they were talking about.  Well Darwin was a student here. And Isaac Newton. DNA was discovered here.   Steven Hawking works at the University of Cambridge NOW!  

There are several colleges devoted to theological education and most colleges in the University have their own chapel.  Plus, in the city centre, there are gobs of old churches, all currently active.  Faith and even church life is a big deal here.  This place is old.  OLD.  There are some more modern colleges, like the one Winston Churchill founded, but most are so old they are built like castle walls around a green common space.  Each one is like a fortress with a gate for entry, to protect from the bad guys.  Like when I studied church history and realized the church had quarreled since the beginning of time and yet survived, seeing the fortress gates helped me lighten up about our need to have a guard outside the door for our school chapel in Beaumont.

I am learning to be frugal, which is hard since I am used to buying what I want.  But I want my money to stretch since the dollar converts poorly to pound sterling.  AND,  my bag is stuffed, so I can't accumulate anything else. As much as I loved Cambridge I did not buy one souvenir.  My memories will be my souvenirs. No telling what all disciplines I'll learn on this trip.

I have been so grateful for the kindness of strangers.  I've shared breakfasts with two young couples one from Germany and the other Boston.  The German woman, Diane, suggested a restaurant called Fitzbillie's, she said it was mentioned in a Pink Floyd song.  I was thrilled that she assumed I would know who Pink Floyd was!!!  And thankful that they were as interested in what I had to say as I was in what they had to say.  The Boston woman, Emily, looked like she was about 21and she is working on her PhD, in Cambridge for a conference on nano-technology.  Yep, lots of brains around here.

But fun too, ya'll Pink Floyd are from Cambridge!!!  So here's a little ditty from The Wall.

Pink Floyd's The Wall

Adjustments to Make

First stop on my journey is a few days in Amsterdam with Caitlin and Peter, baby mama and baby daddy!  I love being in a city where you can walk to most places you need to go. Now if I can just remember to pay attention! The Netherlands is a country that bikes. Everyone rides both in the city and in the countryside.  It is also a country of rather fantastic architecture and engineering. The roads are created with ample sidewalks for pedestrians, bike lanes, tram lanes and car lanes. There are rules. Pedestrians have the right-of-way at certain crossings, but mostly bicycles rule. I mean rule. Do NOT step into the bike lane. This is hard for me because it is second nature for me to cross a street and immediately turn onto a sidewalk.  Urck!!! Head-on with bicycles! Very embarrassing.

Being in a “foreign” country is challenging, like trying to read the food labels to find a seasoning or pick out lunch from a menu entirely in Dutch.  Talk about potluck.  I saw a wine name I didn’t recognize so I thought I would read the helpful description on the label – oops forgot – can’t read Dutch!  Tried it though – Pinot Blanc – and it was good.  It came from Alsace, which is why I bought it, a nod to Archdeacon Russ Oeschel whose family is from Alsace, France. 

The Dutch are tall people and the kid’s modern apartment proves that.  My head just barely reaches to the bottom of the bathroom mirror.  You can see the oven is above my head!  Since the Dutch are tall I would assume they have big feet, but interestingly the stairs are what I call “toe stairs”.  Steps only deep enough for your toes.  Which works fine going up, but going down it is really weird, I place my heel on the stair and hope for the best.

Oh, and they are quiet.  They feel that you keep your conversations to yourself – they don’t really appreciate a loud, boisterous Texas laugh.  I have to try to keep my voice down – everywhere. They don’t yell.  I am such a yeller.  This is a good discipline for me, keep my voice down and no yelling.   There are so many adjustments to make.  And tomorrow I head out on my own without my trusty sidekicks to remind me not to step in the bike lane.  I better reread Rick Steve’s tips on adjusting to the English way.

Prepare Me The Way

It is finished.  The packing that is.  Lord have mercy on me, a high-maintenance woman.  In all fairness all of those bags are not for me.  The biggest bag is totally baby stuff.  Thank you friends and family for showering the parents-to-be with much needed and adorable stuff.  The second largest bag is 70% baby and baby mama stuff.  That leaves me with the smaller duffle and 30% of the larger duffle. And the carry-on (emergency rations for a baggage fail) and my don’t-get-bored-on-a-10-hour-flight tote.  Hopefully a book of fiction, Rick Steve’s England tour book, a coloring book and pencils, my Kindle and my iPod will keep me entertained for the 10 hour flight.  No, I don’t sleep on airplanes….or in cars.

Luckily much that I take doesn't take up bag space - the prayers and encouragement of the folks at St. Stephen's, my DOK sisters, my card girls, and my life sisters.  I take with me the confidence that good leaders are taking responsibility for the many things that are important to me.  I carry with me my good sense knowing that whatever calamity may come my way with my good sense I'll get through it.  Riding deep in my heart is the knowledge that my life is lived in kairos and for God's glory and that I am filled with the grace of Jesus Christ in whom I call do all things.

I’ve had my last guacamole for a while, no way they can do it properly “over seas”.  I’ve trimmed my bangs (thank you Nancy+), had my nails done, waterproofed my new sneakers and printed off my boarding pass.  I’ve gone over technology with hubby so we can video talk for free.  I’ve gotten rid of everything in the fridge that I know he won’t eat and I’ve given him a grocery shopping tutorial.  I’ve watched five episodes of Tiny Houses and four episodes of Chopped….I must be ready. 

I’ve been further…Africa and Israel, but three weeks is the longest I’ve ever been away from home.  Ever.  Well not counting college but that became home.  I’ve dreamed of this jaunt forever.  Seriously.  A benefit of old age:  courage, time and finances finally come together so that we get to make our dreams come true.

I am going somewhere and, of course, this little ditty is playing in my head…..

Leavin' on a Jet Plane!!!

Gotta Leave Some Stuff Behind

There is so much to be done in order to leave home for three months. I find that I am nervous. I feel like I did about August the year that I went off to college for the first time.  Stomach aches. A lot of quietness. Nervous. My mind is so busy that sleep is not so good. Thinking through every possibility.  Hoping I can figure out what trains to get on and how to get a cab. Double-checking all my lodging reservations so that I don’t show up and they have no record of me.

Then there is the homefront, making sure I’ve taken care of things, paid bills, gotten medicine refills, doggie medicine too, let everyone know who needs to know.

Over these last days as I’ve felt nervous I have also been stepping more and more into the adventure.  As much as I love all the projects I’m involved in, it will be nice to have no responsibility for a while.  It will be nice for my few remaining brain cells to concentrate wholly on my own learning and experiencing.

I’ve already been detaching from Americana, well that is current-events-Americana.  I haven’t even watched Beyoncé’s Lemonade.  I will be so glad to not see anyone’s stupid opinion about gender neutral bathrooms  (I am praying that they all get a life and take an adventure!)  I will be so thankful to pass some days without seeing Trump’s face or really any of the candidates.  Cruz’s face is painful to see also.  Sanders and Clinton’s face are much easier to look at, but I’ve had enough! Now, I realize that American politics is a hot topic in the UK and Europe also, but I’m not likely to read a newspaper or watch a TV.  Hopefully no one I meet will engage me in such conversation. 

As painful things have happened recently – the continued difficulty for our neighbors in Deweyville, terrible flooding for my Houston neighbors, more weather problems just north of me, lots of shootings here and there, bad car wrecks….I keep thinking I am taking a vacation from all this.  It is OK for me to forget about it all for a while and immerse myself in the history and a life of another country.

There are things I am finding harder to leave behind.  My dad.  While he has great caregivers and my husband and brothers keeping their eyes on him, I know that my non-anxious presence gives him a little peace when he is worried.  He trusts that I’ll see about him.  He also trusts the others, so I just need to remember that.

It is hard to leave Winston, my pup, but I know he is in good hands. But, ya know, nobody loves a pup better than his momma!  He’ll miss me.  And I hope that he doesn’t hate me when I return!  I could send him postcards but, ya know, he is a dog and I don’t think he’ll appreciate that.

It is hard to leave hubby.  I am used to his company, his partnership.  Only a phone call away I know, but not by my side.  At least, God bless him, he is the one stuck with handling all those little household things that will come up.  He is my hero. 

I know what I’m leaving behind as I go somewhere.  Now to think about the what I’m taking…whew!!!

Changing my latitude, changing my attitude.... a little encouragement from Jimmy Buffet.

Jimmy Buffett Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude

Full Disclosure

I stole the beautiful picture of Crystal Beach from the facebook page of Crystalbeach.com.  I believe the photographer is Tom Osten, but not positive.  I have sent a request for the info.  Whoever it is takes gorgeous pictures of the beach nearly daily and posts them on FB.  The pictures make me every happy.

I started this blog with the Crystal Beach picture because I believe it is my "home plate".  I am no sports enthusiast but in baseball home plate is where you start and where you finish, right?!  A place we always come back to. I think in order to Go Somewhere we need to first have a home plate.  A place where we are rooted, where we can always find comfort and peace.  A place where our imaginations can soar.  A place where we can grieve and rejoice.  A place where we can muster up our courage and rest on our laurels.

My home is certainly that place for me.  My kitchen table, my comfy chair, my people, my favorite things.  But since I was a kid the beach, sans any accoutrements like furniture or artwork, has been my thin place - that place where the distance between the world and the divine is very, very slim.

I think having a home where I feel very secure and free to be myself and having a "home plate" like Crystal Beach enables me to Go Somewhere.  I would love to hear about your Home Plates.

George Benson's Breezin' takes me to the beach every time.  Long story!!  Enjoy.
'
Breezin'