I just realized I haven't posted a blog here since August. And chances are no one reads this anymore. And I can't say I blame them. I'd stop reading too. Obviously, since I stopped blogging.
Maybe I'll take after a good friend of mine and start posting an anonymous blog....tempting.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Anniversary
Well, today is the one year anniversary of my trip to London with my friend Sara.
I cried.
England holds so many wonderful memories, and Londo is definitely one of them. I fell in love with that place the moment we entered the city. Nevermind it was 10:30pm, raining and the last time I would see Sara. Just pulling into the city on that big bus was a thrill. I was actually in London. The next few hours proved to be the most hysterical of my enitre 4 months in England. It started with a broken luggage wheel and ended with taking a bath in the worlds smallest bathroom. I'll never forget the look on Sara's face when I started dragging her 75 pound suitcase through the wet streets of London. We made our way to the tube, somehow, and spent the next hour trying to figure out how in the heck it worked. We must have gotten on and off about 4 different lines as we navigated the supposedly brilliant plans of the Underground. Keep in mind we're traveling with all of Sara's luggage, as she was heading home, and my own stuff for the next couple of days. We couldn't help but laugh as her smaller suitcase got stuck in the doors of the subway, and we ended up nearly losing it. People were staring and we knew it, but it didn't matter. We were having the time of our lives. As we wandered the dark streets trying to discern the directions given us by our London hosts, we kept saying how ridiculous the whole thing was, and how wonderful a story it was all going to be. And boy is it. We somehow managed to find our way to Fabian Street without being mugged or attacked. Which was a relief. We stumbled into the blue house on the corner and Jill and Dave stifled their laughter as we pulled off our wet socks and shoes, and collapsed on their couches.
The next 2 days go down in history as the 2 best days of my life. Touring London on a red doubel decker bus, eating carrot and coriander soup in a dirty pub in Picadilly Circus, licking Big Ben, and spending the entire time with Sara. Then traveling back to Sheffield on my own, in the quiet of my own mind, listening to Augustana, and feeling completely alive. I remember thinking, "This is what life is about."
It's no secret that I miss England. And that there are moments I truly, and deeply regret ever leaving. But I know that I needed to come home. For whatever reason, God wanted me to come home. And I know there are people who don't believe me, but that's there issue. Not mine.
I can't believe London was a year ago. It seems like it was just yesterday I was hugging Sara goodbye, and crying as I caught the train back to the bus station. It was hard to say goodbye,but I'd do it all over again if I could.
I cried.
England holds so many wonderful memories, and Londo is definitely one of them. I fell in love with that place the moment we entered the city. Nevermind it was 10:30pm, raining and the last time I would see Sara. Just pulling into the city on that big bus was a thrill. I was actually in London. The next few hours proved to be the most hysterical of my enitre 4 months in England. It started with a broken luggage wheel and ended with taking a bath in the worlds smallest bathroom. I'll never forget the look on Sara's face when I started dragging her 75 pound suitcase through the wet streets of London. We made our way to the tube, somehow, and spent the next hour trying to figure out how in the heck it worked. We must have gotten on and off about 4 different lines as we navigated the supposedly brilliant plans of the Underground. Keep in mind we're traveling with all of Sara's luggage, as she was heading home, and my own stuff for the next couple of days. We couldn't help but laugh as her smaller suitcase got stuck in the doors of the subway, and we ended up nearly losing it. People were staring and we knew it, but it didn't matter. We were having the time of our lives. As we wandered the dark streets trying to discern the directions given us by our London hosts, we kept saying how ridiculous the whole thing was, and how wonderful a story it was all going to be. And boy is it. We somehow managed to find our way to Fabian Street without being mugged or attacked. Which was a relief. We stumbled into the blue house on the corner and Jill and Dave stifled their laughter as we pulled off our wet socks and shoes, and collapsed on their couches.
The next 2 days go down in history as the 2 best days of my life. Touring London on a red doubel decker bus, eating carrot and coriander soup in a dirty pub in Picadilly Circus, licking Big Ben, and spending the entire time with Sara. Then traveling back to Sheffield on my own, in the quiet of my own mind, listening to Augustana, and feeling completely alive. I remember thinking, "This is what life is about."
It's no secret that I miss England. And that there are moments I truly, and deeply regret ever leaving. But I know that I needed to come home. For whatever reason, God wanted me to come home. And I know there are people who don't believe me, but that's there issue. Not mine.
I can't believe London was a year ago. It seems like it was just yesterday I was hugging Sara goodbye, and crying as I caught the train back to the bus station. It was hard to say goodbye,but I'd do it all over again if I could.
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