God is doing so much.
I am constantly struck by the impossibility of it all. That I'm here, in England. That this has become my life. I don't understand what He's up to but I know He's laid His hand on my life and will not lift it until I resemble His Son...
This morning I went with my friend Marge to a Church of England church called St. Catharine's. We actually went because on the day last week when all the churches in the area sent representatives to the school Marge and I spoke to a past student of Redcliffe named Skye who goes to St. Catharine's and invited Marge and I over for lunch after church today-- knowing that Redcliffe doesn't serve meals on Sunday. Skye is the coolest lady. An enigma. I love enigmas. She dresses all in black, has peircings and tattoos and dark eyeshadow, and the love of God just shining out of her beautiful smile : ) She feels called to become a vicaress in the Anglican church... Her husband is super nice, super soft-spoken, with a long, dark pony-tail and obvious tenderness for their four-year old Sophia, whom he follows about devotedly. I fell in love with their cuddly little newborn, Pheonix. Strange name, beautiful 5-week-old boy. They are living in what was once the servants' quarters of a grand old house just down the street from Redcilffe. They have two bedrooms, a kitchen and a bath and I'm sure they struggle to make ends meet just now but they still didn't hesitate to open up their home to us and fill our plates. We ate at a make-shift table in their bedroom. Such inspiring generosity... To have so little and yet share all they have...
This past Saturday Mike (England), a formidable third year student somewhere past his 50th birthday, organized a morning walk to a cafe in the city centre for a traditional "Full English Breakfast". At first I thought I couldn't be bothered to get up early on a Saturday just for breakfast : ) But they convinced me it would be a "cultural experience" (Later on in the day they got me to watch a game of Rugby on the telly for the same reason-- It would seem they can get me to do almost anything by calling it that : )). They plopped down plates as large as the seat of my chair and filled with foods of all kinds. All I could think was how much my Dad would love this Full English Breakfast tradition : ) Sausages, ham, eggs, fried toast, hash browns, baked beans, and tomatoes! ---- So, Dad, when you get here, we'll be sure to go out for the Full English : )
This weekend has been a good one for just spending time getting to know people better. We've done a movie night (Shanghai Nights-- which really played up on the whole American/English stereotypes so that was fun : )), Rugby-- which North American Football is supposed to have derived from, Full English breakfast with a couple of Englishmen and ladies and two Germans, and strolling through the city during the crazy "Harvest" celebrations. We've done "parlour games", lots of Uno with new rules added in intermidently by Dave (England) and Adriaan (Holland-- though he's taken to speaking his English with a Gloucester accent which is really quite a spectacle : )), and a worship session with Leticia (Brazil) running late into the night. I've been so blessed by new friendships (especially friendly Claire from Nothern Ireland and sweet Mavis from Zimbabwe) and the deepening of others...
I have never had the experience of being part of a prayer partnership until now-- much less a prayer "Triplet" as Leticia, Sarah, and I have taken to calling ourselves : ) We basically just decided one night to get together weekly and pray, to share struggles and be accountable to one another. I feel so... undeserving of being considered a part of this little group. These girls' hearts are so extravagantly beautiful, their faith so mature and full. Even their prayers are beautiful. Sarah is about 32, from Essex, a county in south-east England, and only here for a short course before she heads off to two years of mission-work in Peru. I felt a connection with her and was encouraged by her presence at the college from the first night on. Leticia, is about 25 (I'm guessing, though I haven't actually found out), from Brazil, and a spectacularly delightful little fireball of beauty, friendliness, exuberance, wisdom, eloquence, and love. I love her heart. She has somehow seen something in me worth pursuing, worth getting to know, worth taking time for. And I am so blessed by her presence. Last week we three got together intending to pray and ended up learning to dance the Brazillian Samba as well, amidst much uncontrollable laughter, I assure you : )
On Friday I had my first day of my concurrent mission placement. It's a position on the chaplaincy team of the local Gloucestershire Royal Hospital. I came away so utterly overwhelmed. I really don’t know clearly what I felt, only overly-so. My first day at the hospital I was paired up with a lovely older lady named Dorothy who took me around with her on her neurology ward and just let me observe her interactions with the patients—sort of ‘showing me the ropes’. I’ve come away powerfully touched. It’s as if I was feeling so much that I was numb… First off, there’s the basic foundation of fear and a feeling of inadequacy for the job. But I feel God really whispered peace over that aspect of it for me and gave me a calm going into it. Then there’s the social interaction of it—the out-going approach one must have to walk into those bays filled with beds divided by drawn-back curtains. At first, the responsive patients seem interested to see who exactly we are and what we’re up to in their room but more often than not once we introduced ourselves as related to the chaplaincy, people closed off. No one wanted prayer. Some people forbid Dorothy even to talk of God to them. All were struggling to understand why they were finding themselves in this place in their lives. I felt so awkward standing there, healthy and whole, beside a friendly, bold Dorothy, witnessing people grappling with such personal pain—especially when they wanted nothing to do with God’s help besides. One lady lying dreadfully ill in bed couldn’t speak any English but she looked miserable. Dorothy with beautiful compassion knelt down on the floor beside her bed and took her hand and just told her she was loved and that everything was going to be okay, whether or not she could understand her. She knelt like that, holding her hand and looking into her face, for minutes that stretched on awkwardly, but in the discomfort my heart was moved to feel just a bit of her depths of pain. We had to suit up in rubber gloves and aprons to enter a private room off the main corridor to sing Happy Birthday to a severely ill and quite disabled 22 year old man. Dorothy knew him quite well because he had been there for awhile and she had a Psalm to read to him all about God’s protection and healing. I stood there looking into the one opened eye of this young man, noticing the glistening brown and wondering what he was thinking, what he was feeling, and listened to her words from the Psalm and just felt so extremely helpless and out of place. Whatever struggles I’ve had in this life are nothing! Whatever woebegone days I’ve endured are nothing! Here was a 22 year old man in the prime of his life lying crumpled up and crippled in a hospital bed while we sang him songs to celebrate his life and promised him that God is with him and has an excellent plan for him and will heal him. It was all just too much. And I went away on complete overload. I know my God is faithful, even unto such as these, but my heart aches for them and I’m frustrated by the awkwardness in interaction caused not by lack of empathy—my heart burns with empathy—but a lack of complete understanding. So, I bring it before my Lord, knowing His ways are higher than mine, His thoughts beyond my comprehension, His love for the people I met that day deeper than I can possibly begin to describe.
But I ask for your prayers. This placement is asking something of me that I didn't realize I had, and so stretching me in ways I didn't think I could be. I just want to shine His love but so often I'm afraid my own selfish timidity gets in the way. Even as a write this, though, a scribbled down Isaiah 8:13 stares up at me from a notepad-- "If you fear God, you need fear nothing else." And so I have nothing to fear...
Once again, sorry about the length! And it's only the tip of the iceberg really : )
May He keep you close,
Leah <><
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