i don't remember exactly when, but somewhere in my childhood, i came across the unusual phrase---study abroad. it caught my attention and i tucked the idea away. knowing my precocious younger-self, i've little doubt, i repeated those words to others ad nauseam. probably telling anyone who'd listen, how, “someday, i planned to study abroad in england.” it wasn’t that i was convinced, but more that i liked to be convincing: a big dreamer, a real talker. england became my plan from the time i first heard it a possibility.
by the time i reached college, my love for english literature was fully rooted and after choosing it as my major, the idea of at least one semester abroad my junior year seemed even more certain the right path.
nottingham university in england--a couple hours north of london--was the place. with the help of a college professor i picked it out of a catalog. i gathered the applications needed, filled them out carefully, and looked at them constantly. for months they sat ready, tucked inside a book on my desk. keep in mind, this was before the age of the internet (remember, i am old). i had a single brochure and a paper application and that was it.
nottingham england—i could only imagine. there were no glossy pictures on my laptop (laptop?), no instagram accounts to follow, no travel blogs to consult. the few dusty travel books on the library shelf offered a glimpse, but, truth is, i really didn’t know much about anything i was doing. i knew how to dream it, i just wasn't sure how to do it. and so that paper application--that ticket to the larger world--stayed secure in a book on my desk in my college dorm room in western pennsylvania.
i wanted to go. of course i did. but the ambiguity and enormity of it all kept me standing still. it felt big, maybe too big. i was filled with the desire to go, but found myself frozen in fear of the actual going. it played out quite nicely in my dreams, but i wasn’t sure how to make it fit into my reality.
i pretended to know a lot back then--probably still do-- but the truth was, i simply didn’t know how to make it all happen. i wanted to, but for all my convincing kind of talk, i was scared.
of course there was this boy who factored into the equation, as well. we met right away our freshman year. it didn't take long for us to realize we weren't just a passing fancy for each other. suddenly, a week spent away from him began to feel most unbearable, let alone a full semester apart. early on we even began to talk about marriage. and the christmas of our junior year we became engaged -- another dream … another fairytale … another exciting option.
and so, at some point, 27 years ago, i tucked away my england dream and traded it for something else — mind you, another something very good. i continued on at my liberal arts college, was married before my senior year, earned my degree and began my adult life without ever traveling over to england. of course, i continued to read — yes, wuthering heights for even a third time. and with my books and my teaching degree and my marriage license i traveled down the road of other adventures.
i’ll always remember that first british literature class i taught as a brand new high school teacher—all seniors. we struggled through thomas hardy’s tess of the d’ubervilles. i didn't understand why they didn't love it. i tried everything to bring victorian england to life for these 18 year olds. at the end of the day, i'd wring my hands in frustration and wipe away tears—wishing i had the ability to share a little bit of what i loved with these students who seemed only interested in parties and prom and their graduation day. i didn't understand their lack of enthusiasm, but slowly i began to understand the enthusiasm of teaching and working with students--interested or not. and like any year full of challenge it was the time i grew up the most. i was no longer a dreaming child, but a working woman with a paycheck and a classroom and a husband.
and life was good.
and has been good.
this past week, when, 27 years after my junior year of college, i flew with my oldest daughter for her study abroad program in england. my daughter—now, herself, a college junior.
situational irony, for sure! i’m certain a few of my favorite english writers would be delighted in such a demonstration.
i hadn’t thought of that 27 years ago sitting in my dorm room and dreaming. how could i? as a 21 year old i had only dreams for myself to go. but instead, the plan worked for me to wait and take my daughter -- now, herself turning 21 this month. i couldn’t have cooked up this scenario (rarely can we) … but am so thankful for the gift it has been. and, let's not forget to mention the fact that we got to throw paris into the deal as well!
|i was looking for the restroom before the service began|
two pieces, in fact -----
first off, if at all possible, seize every opportunity for adventure. of course i had the most wonderful time this week, but i can’t lie and tell you i haven’t many times wished i had gone 27 years ago. it’s not discontentment with the course of my life or even regret really. realizing that i might have missed this adventure doesn't ruin anything or diminish my happiness one bit, but it makes me aware of how sometimes we do pass up good things because we might feel overwhelmed or afraid. i do wish someone had told that 21 year old jody, "just pack your bags and go.” i know we probably all feel that way about something. i suppose it's pretty common. and, honestly, i think it’s perfectly okay to call it what it is. we can’t pretend that missed opportunities don’t matter. they matter, but they don’t always mean the road we chose was wrong, only that it’s possible we didn’t take advantage of a blessing God might have had waiting for us.
|a pigeon's eye view|
our dreams and desires … God’s direction and plan … i’ll be honest, i--very much unlike God--don’t completely understand how all of it works together. but i do trust His timing. and, furthermore, i do know that even all these years later, gazing over into the poets corner of westminster abbey this past sunday morning, i had goose bumps and was overwhelmed with thankfulness for a dream finally fulfilled. a dream which included my first born sitting right by my side.
adventures require us to be brave. i don’t mean stupid—of course it’s important to know the difference. but if you are waffling some in the midst of a dream or trying to find a bit of courage to take a step toward it, i only want to encourage you to go ahead and walk boldly into God’s plan. think of these words as me taking you by the shoulders, even right now, and saying, "go for it!"
i suppose from the above paragraphs it might sound like i'm contradicting myself a little. not at all. say yes when the opportunity should arise and seize the moment. but, if you didn't or haven't ... don't be discouraged thinking you can't or won't. a dream delayed doesn't have to be dead.
this past week, it was a beautiful gift to embrace --- and this mother of a college junior wants to assure you, though the plan might look different 27 years later, it’s never too late.
|finally -- on our way!|
|queen victoria monument|
|not messing around|
|the queen's guard|
|the queen's life guard.|
the life guards have stood guard at horse guards since the
restoration of king charles II in 1660
|the changing of the guard ceremony -- happens every day at 11:30|
|new year's day we celebrated with high tea at the browns hotel in mayfair.|
famous for being the first london hotel (1837) and a hot spot for writers.
it inspired agatha christie's thriller, At Bertram's Hotel.
|a proper english tea includes in several separate courses:|
champagne, finger sandwiches, scones, clotted cream
and a variety of teas in separate silver teapots.
it was unreal!
|a normal street scene|
|portobello market in notting hill. we went on new year's eve and it was|
jam packed. but, nonetheless, an absolute favorite. it is known for
it's stalls selling everything from fruit and bread to antiques. a fascinating place!
|loved this store!|
|was especially proud of how emily and figured out the underground (subway) system. could of been|
intimidating, but once we got the hang of it, it was the best. everyone working there is
incredibly helpful ... and, oh gosh, those accents. to die for.
|a fab hotel and below it is a train station and mall. it's where we took|
the eurostar out of for paris.
|eiffel tower, we see you!|
|the louvre. just standing in this square made me want to weep.|
|the notre-dame cathedral. "our lady of paris." began construction in 1163.|
wish we had had time to go up to the top,
but lines were long and time was short. next trip.
|the seine river. everything i thought it would be and more.|
|because while in paris why not have a glass of wine and light lunch at the ritz.|
not especially friendly, but oo-la-la.
|typically not one to stand on street corners, |
but, gosh, i could have stood right here forever.
|sacred heart basilica (sacre-coeur)|
|view from the basilica -- highest point in paris|
|the arc de triomphe or arch de triumph. the arch honors those|
who fought in the french revolutionary and napoleonic wars.
|biggest train station ... where we caught the eurostar back to london. |
gare du nord. had to practice saying that name too.
|on our way to the theatre, but first, piccadilly square. (kind of like london's|
version of times square ... people aren't any better behave, but the accents are definitely more charming).
|piccadilly square and this guy doing his thing.|
|this is the block in kensington where emily will be staying this month |
for her arts appreciation course.