In England's Green & Pleasant Land

It is not often that I wake from my night’s sleep and remember even a portion of what I dreamt. This happened earlier this week.

This past Wednesday I woke up remembered dreaming that my wife and I were back living and working at The King’s Lodge; the Youth With A Mission base that we served at in the late 90’s. It was not The King’s Lodge as I remember it for the structure was somewhat different and definitely larger. Yet, it was The King’s Lodge nonetheless and we were settled into a small flat in the back of the building. This was how it was when we lived there.

I did not want to wake from that dream. But I did. I shared my remembrance with Gerrie and started preparing to go to work. My mind was filled with thoughts of England and how much I truly miss being there. In these moments of shaving, dressing, having breakfast, I was drawn to William Blake’s poem “Jerusalem.”

And did those feet in ancient time,

Walk upon England’s mountains green:

And was the holy Lamb of God,

On England’s pleasant pastures seen!

And did the Countenance Divine,

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here,

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my Bow of burning gold;

Bring me my Arrows of desire:

Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!

Bring me my Chariot of fire!

I will not cease from Mental Fight,

Nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand:

Till we have built Jerusalem,

In England’s green & pleasant land.

Life Goes On

It has been one month since I last wrote. It is time to begin writing again.

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We’re back from England and after two weeks of struggling with a combination of jet lag and head cold, things are beginning to get back to normal. It has been a few busy weeks at work but I was able to look forward to this weekend and the promise of settling into a routine once more. At my age routines are good.

Gerrie was traveling this weekend. She was up to Michigan for a class reunion. This means I had time on my hands to take care of things that I generally push aside while we’re home together; which is most of the time. Coming home from England and feeling somewhat inspired, I had hoped to work in the yard. But a good amount of rain changed those plans. The same way it changed plans to go to a baseball game with friends. Oh well, I suppose the rain is good thing.

Changing my plans, I came upstairs and started going through things in the office. I went through old files and reorganized some things, and, discarded more than a few things. It is all a part of my ongoing desire to simplify; to downsize. Yet when it comes to discarding items, it is easier to part with some things and harder with others.

Finding some things that were difficult to part with is what prompted me to stop and write.

I have, for many years, harbored a deep desire to relocate to Central Florida. For those who me well, they know that I love Walt Disney World and I would go there as often as possible. More recently the frequency of my trips has declined so we can travel and see other things. Still, I always wish to be there more than I am. So a few years ago I began to investigate a move. I thought, “You’re still young enough to find good employment and with a few changes and modifications in lifestyle, you can make a go of it.” Though Gerrie doesn’t share the same passion for Disney that I do, she was supportive of the idea. The planning and savings commenced.

I called and emailed a number of Chambers of Commerce in the Central Florida area and began collecting all manner of information about relocating. I started reading, looking at different areas to live, investigated job possibility and costs of living, and started making a plan. I had us on a twenty-four month plan; twenty-four months to save, organize, downsize, and so forth. Those twenty-four months concluded this past January 1st. 

We’re still here.

This morning I found the files with all the notes, the brochures and magazines that I had gathered. As I opened the file and placed the contents on my desk I had a moment of pause. My first thought was to gather everything together and put them back where I found them. That is when the thought stuck me, “Life goes on Greg.” With that, I gathered the pile and placed it in my recycle bin.

It wasn’t easy. To do that was like admitting that this particular dream was over. And perhaps it is. But, perhaps it is, only for awhile. Perhaps some day I will realize this dream and live out my twilight years spending time in my “happy place.” But it isn’t for these years. 

Putting these things out for recycle may mean that this is over. But, it doesn’t mean that the dreaming itself comes to an end. Oh no! I am a dreamer! I make no apologies for that. As long as there is life in this old body I will continue to dream. I will continue to dream about the places I wish to visit and the things I wish to see. I will continue to dream, and to pray, that God may one day call me back out into the mission field and that I will be brave enough and bold enough say, “God, here I am, I am Yours.” I will dream about all the wonderful times that still await Gerrie and I, the love we will share and the memories we will make. And yes, I will continue to dream of a day when I can walk down Main Street U.S.A. any day that I’d like. 

So, life goes on, but I will continue to dream.

If I Were A Rich Man

     “If I were a rich man,

     Yubby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dibby dum.

     All day long I’d biddy bibby bum.

     If I were a wealthy man.”

I played Tevye last year. I loved playing with that song. Great fun.

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We took a drive yesterday to the Radnor Lake State Natural Area. Gerrie’s sister Karen is in town and Karen’s son, Josh, recommended we all take a Saturday morning hike at the lake. It was a brisk morning, slightly overcast, but still a good morning for walking.

The lake is located in the southern part of the county and in an area that is considerably more affluent that where we live. This prompted my nephew to ask from the backseat, “Does this make you think of ‘If I Were A Rich Man?’” My first thought was to say not really. Being wealthy, in the monetary sense, is something that I will never be. So I don’t give much thought to it. Yet, something about the question made me stop and think for a moment. What would I do if I were a rich man?

I continued driving towards the lake, pass some incredible homes. Then I thought, this isn’t what I’d want. Sounds odd doesn’t it. But it is true. I don’t think I’d live a big house or drive whatever car one drives when one is wealthy. No, I think if I were a wealthy man I would do quite well in a small house.

I’d use some money to purchase a good amount of land; wooded and pasture. I’d want a nice spring fed stream running though it with maybe a small pond. In a nice stand of trees, not far from the stream or pond, would be an old frame house or maybe a cabin. It would have a few rooms; a parlor, a dining area, one bedroom for Gerrie and I with a second one for guests, and then a room that would be where Gerrie and I would do the things we love to do. There we’d write or draw, maybe a small easel where I’d paint, and there would be a place for me to work on my photography and store my camera gear.

Throughout, our small house would be photographs of our family and friends, of places we’ve traveled and framed prints of some my better photographic efforts. Books would abound and setting about here and there would be the things we’ve collected. This would include those little curiosities that we find during our walks. 

Our front yard would be carpeted with soft green grass and scattered about would be daffodils, blue bells, and a host of other flowers in season. Wildflowers would be to the left and right of some of the paths we’d walk. A wide variety of trees would fill our woods.

This is where I’d live if I were a rich man. But I'm not a rich man.

No wait, I am. But just not in the sense that the world defines it. I am rich because of the family that I am a part of and because of the friends that I share life with. I am rich in the experiences that I had and my dreams are rich with the experiences that I hope to have. And, I am rich because of my faith. My faith keeps me focused on a goal; on a finish line, that is not of this world! With all this, I am a very wealthy man indeed. 

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And about that visit to Radnor Lake, here are a few photos.

I Dreamed of Africa

In ’96 Gerrie and I lived in a place where we woke up every morning to the gentle sounds of bells. From the window of our little upstairs room, we could see a field and in that field were sheep. The bells were worn by some of the flock. We actually have one that we purchased in Gruyéres. Yes, the place they named the cheese for. Also out that window and just to the left we could see the French Alps.

One has to wonder at times how they can be so fortunate. Here we were in a place, attending our discipleship training school, preparing to serve as foreign missionaries, that was so beautiful and so placid. We were blessed. 

In fact, we have been blessed to be in a variety of places; some very beautiful and some that are so, well, not places you’d go if you were a tourist. We’ve experienced the shear magnitude of mountains walking through the Alps and the barrenness of a sweeping moor on visits to the southwest of England. We’ve walked along the rugged coast of the Celtic Sea and strolled along the quiet waterfront of a North Sea inlet. We’ve walked the dusty roads of Uganda and the wide sidewalks of the Champs Elysees. The streets of Central London are as familiar to us as the streets of our neighborhood. And there are many places here in the States and in Tennessee that are magnificent.

We’ve been asked, where is the most beautiful place you’ve even been? My wife would tell you Switzerland. I would answer, Zimbabwe.

We flew to Zimbabwe in late May. Looking out the window of the plane we witnessed a unique sunrise. It wasn’t the gradual blending of deep reds, through orange and yellow into light, but it had an almost layered effect. Each color seemed to painted on the horizon in its own hue eventually rising through deep blues, indigos upward into blackness. It was incredible. 

The morning in Harare was cool. We were met by our hostess and driven to the house we’d be staying in. Harare was much like other African cities I had been to, not that I have been to many. The streets were congested with traffic, both motorized and with people on foot. It was well tended in some areas and given to varying levels of depression in others. This was all economics. The more affluent an area was, and there were not many, the better kept it was. 

What was striking, what stood out, was the people. When we were in Uganda the conditions were often deplorable, especially by Western standards. But the people are marvelous. Their hospitality is unbelievable! Their spirit is unquenchable! What little they have, they offer to you. I have never before met a people so open and so giving. In contrast, the people of Harare were isolated. The whites seemed to always be skeptical and on guard. The non-whites would rarely raise their eyes to meet you. Such oppression. It was difficult for Gerrie and me.

While we were in country we had the opportunity to take a day safari on a game preserve just east of Harare. Once I left the city I entered the Africa that I dreamed of.  It is vast. It is rugged. It is raw. It is breathtaking!

I was in Africa!

Under an incredible blue sky we rode on the backs of elephants to a stand of acacia trees. Nearby stood a granite koppie. Nestled in the shade was a table with a white linen cloth set with tea and biscuits. This was our breakfast. Finishing our tea, we canoed up the lake to where an open truck waited for us. In the back of the truck we headed out onto the savannah. There we saw zebra, wildebeest, kudu, gazelle, impala, and one the most dangerous animals in Africa, the water buffalo. After a while we started up a small hill. About halfway up the hill stood covered dining area and this  was where we stopped and had lunch. Again, a wonderful setting. One that a person can only imagine. 

Our afternoon was spent seeing other areas of the savannah. At one place we stopped and I walked through the tall grass until I was nearly close enough to touch a giraffe. 

Before we headed back to the city we visited one last area of the preserve. An area  enclosed by high fencing. There were several acres enclosed. Inside were the big cats; one of which was named Brian. Brian was aged male lion. He liked to have his mane petted and when he knew that guest were near he would come over to the fence line and slam his body against it. This put his body and his mane right to the fence and there, you could just stick your fingers tips (not the whole finger, after all, he is still a lion) through the chain link and touch the mane of a lion. Brian would stand still for moment. Then he’d walk away. He’d yawn. We’d see his teeth and how large is bite was. Then he’d come back to fence, slam his body against it and we’d pet him again. This, I will never forget!

I once dreamed of Africa and I have been blessed to have visited there twice in my life. I dream of going back some day. I dream of someday riding in the back of an open truck across the  savannah and of having tea in the shade of an acacia tree. I dream of walking through the tall grasses or beside a still lake. I dream of taking a nap under a sky so blue that it defies description and of laying on my back gazing up at the Southern Cross until I fall asleep. 

These are things I dream of. 

On A Dream

"I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train."

                                                                                          ~ Oscar Wilde

Gerrie and I are away, living a dream. This weekend we are experiencing the west coast before boarding the Amtrak Southwest Chief to travel cross-country to Chicago. Forty-six hours on a train with nothing but gorgeous scenery, my camera and some art supplies, my journal and an Agatha Christie murder mystery. I imagine I'll sleep some along the way.

I wish I could promise that there will be something here next Sunday the 29th, but since we'll be arriving home late on the 28th, it may not happen. But, I'll try to write something along the way that might appear here then.

Until then, go do something exciting! We are!

If We Could Live Anywhere...

It wasn’t long ago that I read a travel blog where the writer considered the places they’d travel if money were no object. It is a question I will ask myself from time to time; what would you do if money were no object? However, reality is as it is and money is an object to be considered. Still, I do permit myself to think these thoughts, and on occasion, some of these flights of fancy become my reality.

Similar to this is pondering the question, where would you live if you could live anywhere you would like? Oh, how this question causes my mind and imagine to race. My wife and I started this conversation again this past Friday while waiting for an appointment and it has continued through the weekend. It has not always been an easy question to answer. I have had several places that have intrigued me throughout the years. 

Considering the question now, I find it easy to answer, I would live in England! Now before my family and friends jump to any conclusions, there are no plans underway in which we pull up stakes and move back across the Atlantic. I am not saying it could never happen either. No, right now I am simply indulging a few thoughts of someplace other than here. 

My wife and I lived in Nuneaton.  Nuneaton is a town located in Warwickshire in the area of the United Kingdom collectively known as The Midlands. Most people have never heard of Nuneaton or have no idea where to find Nuneaton. In trying to tell friends we would simply say, “It is in the same county as Stratford-upon-Avon” and hope that people would know that Stratford was Shakespeare’s birthplace. We could also add another historical reference by saying we lived on the Watling Street; an old Roman road. 

Our life in England harkens back to a simpler easier time. We were doing what we were meant to be doing*. Life was slower there than it is here and the things that tend to complicate life was an ocean away. Combining fewer distractions with a singular purpose, residing in a country that captured my imagination years earlier, meant that I found myself in one of the happiest times of my life. It wasn’t a perfect time but it was a very happy time. Missing my family was that one grain of imperfection. It is missing people that makes things toughest. 

When I allow myself to ask “what if”, I think I’d like to be back where we were, in The Midlands. It is quiet and peaceful. We have friends there and in nearby villages and towns. In a sense, it would be like going home and we could be pick up where we left off with several friends.  

Life there would be much as was before. We would walk out our front door and in fifteen minutes be in town for market day. My wife loves market day and it gives me the chance to stop in at the WH Smith on Queen’s Road and purchase a book or two. We would walk out our front door and in five minutes be on a greenway through the countryside. Just like before we would walk as far as a canal side pub for tea. A lack of television means that we’d spend our evenings tucked away in our flat listening to music, reading, writing, or perhaps we’d find our way out and visit with friends. This is something we can do here too, but there we do not have much of a choice.

Every two to three months we’d make our way down to London. It is what we did then, and what we’d do in our present “what if”. We never had much money then so we found the free or inexpensive things to do. Though we may be slightly better off now we would still do many of the same things. We would visit the National Gallery or the British Museum. We’d would find a small cafe table in the lower-level courtyard at Covent Garden and share a cheese plate with a glass of red or white wine. A classical quartet would be playing in the background and sometimes two opera singers will sing the Flower Duet. Sometimes I will find a table in the back room of the Angel and Crown and pull out my journal and write for hours. London had that sort of creative impact on me. What I write is not important but it is important that I write. Whether we make our way back to live, or only to visit, these things we will still find time to do.

England is rich in history and literature. It is also rich in offering a variety of places to visit in country. We loved weekends in Stratford strolling along the River Avon or taking in a performance of the Royal Shakespeare Company. A quick meal at the Dirty Duck is also a treat. We’ve visited the haunts of some of our favorite writers, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien while at Oxford. We have a favorite bed and breakfast overlooking the cliffs at Port Isaac in Cornwall. We’ve gone across the moors in Devon and climbed the Glastonbury Tor. I’ve looked out over Dozmary Pool on the Bodmin Moor, legendary home of the Lady of the Lake and the sword Excalibur. We’ve walked along Lake Windemere in the Lake District and have stood atop the white chalk cliffs of Dover and waved at France. These things, and more, are a part of the “what if”.

We love to travel. If we lived in England again, and hoping that we would be able to afford it, we’d make time to travel over to the Continent more often. There I would indulge my love for Paris. We’d finally make that trip to Germany so that Gerrie can visit the land her family came from. We’d go back to Switzerland, perhaps catch up with a few old friends, and if I can, I’d finally take the journey to Kleine Scheidegg and spend a few hours looking at the Eiger. Another long weekend may find us in Brussels or perhaps in Vienna for the opera. Then maybe one day we’d find ourselves back in Rome, and this time we’d pay the price of admission and stroll through the Forums and visit the Sistine Chapel.

There is a lot we would do if...

Gerrie and I both have a wonderful sense of wanderlust. While living in the present we will often think about the future. Much of this is but dream, but it is shared dream of two people answering a question from the other. It is two people who often comment on how much they miss living in England. It is two people wondering what to do and where to go should the correct set of circumstances occur that give them the opportunity to move back to Europe. It happened before. There is no reason to believe it could not happen again. 

Tolkien’s prequel to the Lord of the Rings is commonly known as The Hobbit. The expanded title is The Hobbit, or There and Back Again. As for the There and Back Again, I wonder if that could be the title of an upcoming chapter in our book of life.

Greg

* A preview of what is to come next week; I will share what got us to England in the first place. It is part of our spiritual journey!

The Dream Book

First a confession. I am borrowing some content for this entry from something that appeared in my other blog some few years back.

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I have several books in my study. There are biographies, histories, books on art, various editions of the works of Shakespeare, and more than a few years of National Geographic Magazine. I also have a book that I call The Dream Book. 

The Dream Book is a black spiral bound scrapbook that I picked up at an arts and crafts shop. On the front cover I applied stickers spelling out the name of the book. It is unlike a regular scrapbook. It isn’t meant to chronicle a trip that has taken place (though there is some of that there). The intent of The Dream Book is to chronicle and plan for things we hope will happen. Things we wish to do. Some people may call it the “Bucket List”. For us, it is The Dream Book.

We have not made much progress in filling the book or in realizing all the dreams we have. Yet, though life may cause a detour or delay in the realization, it can not stop the dreaming. It can not keep us from still thinking of and planning for new courses in our journey. And, we do continue to think of new things while we enjoy the life we have right here.

In the book is a map of the Inside Passage from our cruise in Alaska. There also are postcards. These are from a dream fulfilled; my wife’s dream actually. She had for many years dreamed of going to Alaska and we worked to make it happen. And Alaska, well, Alaska is spectacular! Breathtaking!

From time to time I will open the book and make a note of something. Maybe it is a post-it note reminding me of the name of my favorite pub in London or a cafe in Paris. Perhaps it is something I have overheard, or has been recommended. Whatever it is, this a way to not forget to stop somewhere or see something during a future trip. 

There are several pages of maps detailing Historic Route 66 along with some photographs of some of the hotels we want to stay in and sites I wish to see along the way. I have pasted the Amtrak route map for the United States on one page and on the following page is information about the Southwest Chief. Elsewhere in the book is the schedule for the California Zephyr and the Empire Builder. We are making notes of National Parks we wish to visit along with a few grand hotels we would like to spend the night in. 

My wife has never been to Nantucket and I feel she would enjoy a picnic lunch there. Perhaps during the Daffodil Festival. 

I have never been to Vermont. I want to. In fact, I have counted 13 states that I have not visited here in America. I hope to visit them all.

We lived in Europe for a while; England to be specific. We want to go back. In the book are a few reminders of places we wish to revisit, places like London and Paris and where we lived in the Midlands. There are also places we never made it to but want to. Places like Venice, or perhaps a journey from Vienna to Berlin, or from Madrid to Barcelona. I want to visit Edinburgh and once again walk along Hadrian’s Wall. I would like to holy island of Iona and then take a tour of Eilean Donan Castle. I have dreamed of spending the night at Mont Saint Michel in the north of France.

I wrote a bit about this in an earlier post. In it I wrote, “I will still look and work towards these things (speaking of dreams). But, in doing so, I will not forego the privilege and the pleasure of this moment. I hope not to miss an occasion to experience the adventure of life now because I am focused on a later occasion that is not guaranteed.” This is still true. The things we dream of may never come to pass, but the dreams will keep coming and our list will keep growing. This, while we still live for today.

Greg

Post Script:  My wife and I will travel aboard the Southwest Chief from Los Angeles to Chicago later this year. In doing so, I'll be able to visit three of the thirteen states on my list.