Resources

I am very blessed. With the travel issues I experienced on my flights to and from England and a couple of other situations that have arisen this week, I realize just how many resources I have at my disposal. Yes, a lot of this is due to being blessed. But a great deal of that has to do with hard work and good choices. Karl is the master of taking care to watch pennies and he is also the king of hard work. He balances this lazy soul well! Because of the work we did early in our marriage and family, we have opportunities and resources now that are often a true godsend. The more I pondered this the other day when I found that I had to fall back on some little utilized, but still available, resources the more I realized that it really is true that the harder you work and the more resources you build, the more it snowballs and the more become available. I know that you are likely all saying "Duh" right now, but this was a real revelation to me. I am now grateful for the hard work and sacrifice that we have made through the years that now allow us to have resources for both ourselves and to offer to others. In fact, I am exceedingly grateful.

Generational memories

I came home over these past couple of weeks. There is no other way to describe it. Even Cardiff had a sense of this, even if that was not necessarily a positive thing. I have always toyed with the idea of genetic memory being carried down somehow through the brains of our ancestors into our brains, but now I believe. And I am grateful. It is a powerful sense of wholeness to come to a place where you have never been and feel as though you belong.

And when you consider the vast amount of generations that have gone before this generation that walks the earth now, it is stunning to consider what memories you may carry forward in your brain. I think that this is why we are here now. I do not believe that this is an accident. With memories comes connection and I believe that we have the opportunity to be more connected to the earth and its places than any people who have ever lived. We have been blessed to love places and peoples and cultures on a level that should make us want to have peace and be connected. And we should feel passionate about this, so many have gone before to open up this gift to you. So...what are you going to do about it? What are you going to do to learn to recognize your connection to the past people and places and then what are you going to do to work to preserve what is important and needs to be carried beyond you?

I know that when I sat and wrote and wrote and wrote in that spooky churchyard the other night, I came to know part of what I need to do. I challenge others to seek out the places of memory for their brain and also set goals to make a difference for that place or people. Let me know your stories of trying this challenge, please.

Theatre is the correct spelling

I just had to title this blog post with that smarmy title because I feel strongly about the spelling of this word. And I am in England so there.

I am ever so grateful that we took this extra day in Stratford Upon Avon (I love that name). It was a good day. It was a day of feeling more connected to things that I love and that have truly come to define me. I got a message from a friend back in Conifer about a new theatre that they are putting together for the youth of our community and the help they need to pull the set together in time for their imminent opening. In her email plea for help she mentioned the good she has seen for her son Ben during his work in the theatre. This got me to thinking (as if I have not done enough of that the past few days) and I am so grateful for the theatre in my life. I tried to think of what I would be if I had not discovered the theatre at a relatively young age. I was stunned at the fear that filled my entire being at the mere thought of not having the theatre as part of my foundation. Wow. I am so tied to this medium. I owe so much of what I am and what I believe and what I know to the theatre itself and to the works created for the stage. Of course, Shakespeare is such a deep part of this, he not only is part of the theatre, he gave me a love, appreciation, and understanding of words that give my life such meaning and wealth. Rich. That is the word that comes to mind. My life would still have purpose and I would still have belief and many other blessings if I did not have the theatre, but I would not have the depth of richness that fills my soul and gives me wings. And makes me want to inspire others to find their wings as well.

At the core of this all, is still Shakespeare. I know that there are many thoughts and theories about him and his works and whether or not he even wrote the blasted plays and such but I don't care. I am a purist and I am not sorry to be so. I have studied the theories, tasted them and they are not enough to sway me. And being in this place and seeing Richard II performed as part of the RSC has only cemented it all for me. This has been the experience of a lifetime and I am so very blessed to have been given the opportunity to discover Shakespeare while in my youth and to grow up with his words ringing in my ears and heart. And to offer a love of him to one of my children. Oh how I am missing Michayla while I am on this trip. She would have loved this so much. And tonight, I had the perfect spooky set up in the lonely church yard cemetery that she would have eaten up on every level. I look forward to the day when I can return here with her and offer this all to her. She will feel it as deeply as I do.

As we took a boat trip up the Avon today and came up on the Trinity church it occurred to me that when Shakespeare demanded that he be buried so deeply beneath the altar with his curse resting on the slab that covered his body he was feeling great insecurities. He was concerned about being just tossed out with the rubbish, in the bonfire, like everybody else. He became so real to me in that moment. He was the greatest worker of words who ever lived and he still lived in fear of being forgotten. He was the greatest worker of words who ever lived but he was still a man. He was still sometimes a frightened little boy. He just knew how to express his fears better than most. We all have a way that is ours to express ourselves. A way better than most. We all need to make the most of it. That is what hit me at the end of the day as I sat meditating on a bench under the spire of the Trinity and a full autumn moon with mice rustling through the leaves at my feet and a spider making her web in the bench arm beside me and a wind moaning low in the trees and the doves cooing softly from their perch on the church eaves. I have a voice. I have a way that God wants me to express myself and bring aid and comfort to the few that he puts in my path. I also have the strength to do what God has and will ask of me. And so do you.

It's the little things

Today I walked where Shakespeare walked. I was in his home, I learned about how he lived. I would never have wanted to have lived in that time but I am grateful to be able to see where he was born and lived and learned and died. Although I am a wimp and could never have lived without the comforts that I know today, there is one thing that I wish. As I stood in the gardens where Shakespeare's last house once stood (and should still be standing, but some people are beyond idiots) I found myself wishing that I could be back in his time, just for a few moments so that I could experience the world without the noise that we know today. We are constantly humming and I would love to hear the true stillness that could only be experienced in a time before cars and planes and the hum of electric power. I would love to hear that quiet. But here I am, in his place, where he walked and privileged to witness one of the works of his hands performed around a couple of corners from where he was born. I was called a pilgrim by one of the tour guides we encountered today and that was interesting to roll around in my head. This next stage of my England adventure is rapidly becoming about words. I know that I have written about words many times before but, what can I say, words are what make life worth living.

I think that in many ways it will be the little things that I carry away from this trip that will carry me and enrich my life and the life of my family. The one thing that has been the most fun for me is the origins of words that I have used all of my life but never understood until I saw them in context.

Here is a list of some of the words/phrases that have been most exciting for me to come to an understanding of while on this trip.

Crestfallen - I have read and used this word all of my life, I have even read it in the play Richard II but until I saw it used on stage, I did not realize what it meant. When the loser of a duel of lances falls from his horse, his crest has fallen. He is crestfallen. Cool, huh?

Good night, sleep tight - I have said this to my children a million times over the years but I now know that to sleep tight is to sleep with the ropes of one's beds pulled taut. And if those ropes go slack during the night, a bad night's sleep is inevitable.

Bonfire - Every twenty years, back in the day, they would dig up the cemeteries and burn the bones of the old dead to make room for the newer dead. This was called a "bone fire", it has now become the word bonfire that we use today.

Raining cats and dogs - back in the day, they would place small dogs (terriers) and cats up on the thatch of a house as a way to keep the critter population down. But thatch is slick. Very slick. So when the rain began, those animals began falling off of the roof...thus...raining cats and dogs...

I would love to hear from you. What word/phrase origin is your favorite?

I am sitting here, writing tonight's blog post. It is late and I should be sleeping, I have a huge day tomorrow, but I am so hyped up. (Remember in the Ghost and Mr. Chicken when the occult ladies group saw something of note and came home and vibrated for an hour? Yep, that's me.)

I am here. I am in Stratford Upon Avon. I am getting emotional (again, it has happened a bunch today) as I consider just how much this means to me. Yes, I have posted some silly fangirl stuff about David Tennant tonight, but in the end tis all about Shakespeare. It always comes back to Shakespeare. That is who I am the ultimate fangirl for. And to have this opportunity to watch Shakespeare, performed by some of England's finest actors in Stratford Upon Avon is..well...it truly is like a dream. And this town, it is the quintessential English village. I am so in love. And this flat is gorgeous and even smells like my grandma's house. I teared up when we opened the door because of the smell, which must be something that old homes smell like I guess. (I know that I say a lot about scent, but that is a key memory factor for me.) This is perfection and I am so grateful to Erin and Karen for the working and planning that Erin especially went through so that we could have the perfect experience.

Now...the play's the thing...

As a Shakespeare scholar/actor/freak, I am filled with all sorts of emotions about tonight's performance. We have the privilege of being one of a few number who get to meet with the director of this show for a presentation tomorrow evening and I CANNOT WAIT. I am dying to hear about some of his choices, a few of which I question, in directing this play in this fashion. It is doubly powerful thing to see this particular show just 24 hours after being in the Tower of London. I am nearly back to the history overload that I was feeling last night. This is my history. Not my direct line, but this is my history. And it is rather overwhelming to feel it so personally and so in your face. And as I see the earlier history, the bloody history of these islands, I am even more overwhelmed with the choices that a few people made to break free of this ages old battle for power and try a new way. The emotions are intense.

Shakespeare. Oh how I long to one day have a conversation with that man. While I understand that he took some license with history, how masterfully he captures the flaws and strengths of humans an their decisions. And his words, oh heavens, his words. I laughed, I wept, I gasped, I swooned. And this all happened at the lesser known of the history plays. He is THAT good. And this play is so very lyrical and beautiful. As I told my companions earlier today, this is a play that, did it not star David Tennant, I could just listen to with my eyes closed. It flows so beautifully, especially towards the end. I know this play. I have seen it repeatedly and I read it through a few times in the past few weeks preparing for this trip, but as I sat there watching it performed, there were two times when I had to grab my program and my pen and write down a line I had just heard. IT IS THAT GOOD. SHAKESPEARE AND HIS USE OF WORDS IS THAT INCREDIBLE. Oh, I am just so excited and fluttery. The two lines that struck me tonight were, "Grief makes one hour, ten" and "Comforts are in heaven, we are on earth". Just a few words, simple words even. And yet, they strike my heart as though it was being pierced through with one of those huge swords they had on stage tonight.

Okay. I could go on all night but I need sleep. "Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care" (name that play, it should be easy). I am going to really channel Shakespeare tomorrow and then get angry at King Richard II all over again tomorrow night. So...until tomorrow...

History is Hurting my Head

This is my last day in London. While I am looking forward to the next leg in our adventure, this makes me really sad. I came to quickly love this place even more than I expected. Part of it is the energy and power of the city, but I really fell in love when I looked under the table and found my own little nooks and crannies that spoke to me. St. Andrews By the Wardrobe is my personal piece of London. This morning I woke up early so that I could catch a bus and make it to morning prayer service at the church. What a perfect way to begin my last day in London. The rector, Guy, was so very sweet. I could tell that part of him hoped that this would be a typical morning and nobody would make an appearance for morning prayer, but I did show up and he accommodated me and blessed me for his efforts. Because I am not of the Church of England he instructed me on how the service went and my part to play and then he chose to do the longer service, the one from the time back when this parish first began, the service that my ancestors would have known. It is beautiful, absolutely what I needed to hear this morning. And the scripture passages that he chose, from both the old and the new testaments were tailor made for my needs and my heart. It is an interesting experience to do the morning prayer service between the rector and just a single patron. It is very intimate and powerful and I was in tears by the time we were done. He had things to do and places to go but he gave me a quick tour and then graciously left me with the church open to explore on my own. I simply fell in love with the place. I am ever, EVER so glad that I chose (or was led) to go back there this morning. I needed to be inside. I especially needed that morning service in the small, intimate chapel of St. Anne. Thank you Guy and blessings be on your head for going the extra mile with me today.

I met up with Karen and Erin at the Tower of London after I finished up at the church. WOW! My friend Karena had lent me a book that gave me a history of the tower so I came in with some knowledge, but I was still blown away by this place. I am now so full of history that I am in serious trouble. There are so many things that I need to know more about. The one part of the Tower trip that did not hurt my head was the wonderful Beefeaters. I have already come to love the British people, but those men are a special breed. I think that they are especially important to do a delicate job. To give tours and answer questions in a very heavy place, dealing with intensely tragic history. And they handle it with a wonderful balance. I was impressed. The Tower is a heavy place. I have some sensitivity towards such things and this place was wearing my down by the time we left. And yes, as we were leaving, I do swear that I saw a ghost in one of the high windows. A figure with a lit candle that was there one moment and then gone.

One would think that we would have had enough history by this time...but one would be wrong...we headed over to the British Library to finish our London stay looking at their rare book/document collection. I was not able to take photos there, but I will never forget what I saw on this day. I saw letters written and signed by Michelangelo, Da Vinci, and Churchill. I saw a Tyndale Bible. I saw THE MAGNA CARTA. I SAW THE FIRST FOLIO. There were moments when I seriously could not breathe.

There is no way that I can express all of the feelings and thoughts that are in my heart and my head from this past week. Life-changing is one term I suppose I could use but even that does not quite speak it clearly. Anyone have a thought for a word that might fit...

Weight of ages

This has been the day in London that may well be the reason I have seen God's hand so clearly in allowing me to make this trip and to be in all of the places I needed to be leading up to this afternoon. We began our day at the National Gallery looking at portraits. The Gallery houses my favorite portrait. It happens to be the very first portrait they obtained upon the founding of the Gallery. Very wish choice. I wish that this were the portrait of Shakespeare that we saw always. If you ever get a chance to see it in person. Stand close to it and let him look you in the eyes. It will take your breath away. Seriously.

After the Gallery, we raced up the Mall to get near Buckingham Palace to see the changing of the guard. It was raining. It was miserable. The crowd around the Palace was large. We failed to see much except the soldiers marching towards the circle in front of the Palace. And we could not see their uniforms as they were covered in ponchos. Oh well, we did get to see the Queen the other day so we are good. We left Buckingham and headed over to the British Museum. What a place! I could spend an entire vacation here just in those buildings. I spent my time in the Egyptian area as well as the Enlightenment Room, showcasing stuff from the eighteenth century. As I was nearing the end of my time there, I was standing in a corner, studying antique books and their titles and had an experience that left me realizing that I have a great deal of responsibility. My ancestors, most of whom were living not far from where I stood likely never even owned a book, perhaps a Bible if they were lucky, but that was the extent of their ability to study, read, and learn, for the most part. But they worked and strained and died so that I could be where I am and be what I am and I can and must study all the more and gain all the more in thanks for what they went through to allow me be what and where I am, and the same is true of my children. We must not squander the fact that we have all the resources we could ever want at our fingertips and that I have the privilege of a vast library right in my own home. I must never take this for granted and I must continue to try and gain as much as possible and guide my children to do the same.

We left the museum to get off of our feet and enjoy some Turkish fare and then decided to each go our own way. I knew then that I had to get back to the church St. Andrew By the Wardrobe. So I went back to the flat and grabbed my journal and headed up the Strand. I intended to take a bus both ways but I missed the bus just as I arrived on Strand Street so I started walking, thinking that I might catch another bus if the opportunity presented itself, but I got so caught up in walking and seeing so much, that I made the entire trip on foot. That was a good thing. As I approached St. Paul's I was trying to remember how we had stumbled upon the marker that referenced the church when we had gotten turned around getting to the Globe a few days ago. I could not find the street we had wandered on, but I did find a map, London is very good about putting maps up near places of historical interest, like St. Paul's and I was terribly grateful for their insight at this moment. I studied the map for a moment and located where I needed to be and started walking. In just a few moments, I left the noise of the circle surrounding St. Paul's behind and I was in the most delightful neighborhood, obviously very old, but so beautiful (see photos on Facebook if you are interested). Because of its location, it took me a few times around the block to spot the church and when I did, I was stunned at how shlumpy and nondescript it appeared. I stood there for a moment in my disappointment when I had another experience that reminded me of perspective. It washed over me that this was the church of real people. This was the church of the working class. This was the church of the people I was descended from. As I walked around the corner to enter the gates to this small, quaint worship center, I got the shock of a lifetime. There, up on the wall of the building across the street was a plaque designating this place as the place where Shakespeare resided during his time of living in London. MY ANCESTORS BELONGED TO THE SAME PARISH AS SHAKESPEARE. I had come full circle. So much of this trip has been about the Bard and here was proof that the people I descend from had at least some contact with him. I managed to move up the stairs to one of the benches outside the church before the tears started. The church was shut up and locked for the day so I just sat there on that bench, taking it all in and writing in my journal, again feeling the need to admonish myself to make the most of all that I have been given to make my ancestors proud of me. It was a moment I would not trade for anything. As I wrote and prayed I came to see more clearly just some of the things that I need to do be the best Cynthia I can possibly be for the remainder the time I have on earth. That is a gift. I pray that I will take this experience and carry it forward and do hard things, real things, things that could make all of the difference in the world. Whew. What. A. Day.

Old Things

I like old things. I know that I have passed this condition down to my eldest child as well. Oh how I missed her today as we were wandering down Portobello Road and there were antique shops galore. And then it happened, I looked in one of those antique shops and I could see books, old books, all along the back wall. (If you are reading this Karl, you can breathe easy, I did not purchase any.) I did not purchase any, but I played with them for some time. I pulled books that I never dreamed I would see in my life time off of the shelves. I stroked them and smelled them and yes, I wept a wee bit. It was magical, just like in the Library of Unseen University. OOK! This evening, on our way back to our flat, we stopped in a regular old bookstore and it was not magical. This rather surprised me, y'all know how much I love books. And I have always loved new bookstores and will continue to enjoy them, but they do not hold the magic and warmth and depth of old books. Old books have character and a story. One of the old books that I was sorely tempted to purchase while in that shop on Portobello today was tempting me on many levels (it was a printing of Samuel Pepys diary from the 1800's, not all that old, all things considered, but still leather bound and smelly and wonderful and I am in London and it was a copy of this work that sparked the friendship that means so much to me in the book/movie "84 Charing Cross Road" which is so dear to my heart) but one of the greatest tugs to my heartstrings was the fact that a previous owner had left notes in this book. This book was so very real and loved and filled with voices. I just love that much more than I can ever express.

We spent much of this day seeing things that were nearer to "new" than we have seen in days past and it was not nearly as wonderful as the old. I love grateful that we moved back to the old at the end of our day. That we wandered across Westminster Bridge so that we could stand beneath Big Ben again and be near Westminster Abbey and the houses of Parliament. As I mentioned in a FB post yesterday, the smell of old stone is intoxicating to me.

But there was one special "old" thing that really solidified this blog post that had been niggling at me all day. It happened towards the end of our day as we were crossing a bridge to head over to the London Eye and take a ride up high into the night sky. As we walked, it was crowded. Londoners really make the most of their weekends. But as we walked I noticed an older gentleman walking in a slow but very forthright manner. He struck me because he was so measured in his posture. Then, as he neared me, I could see that he was walking ahead with his sweet little wife behind and he was parting the crowd for her. He kept looking back to check that she was there and then he would look ahead again and march forward, being her knight in shining armor all the way. I was so touched by this, I totally choked up and made my way the rest of the way across the bridge in silence. I was grateful for the distraction of a group of drummers putting on a great show so that I did not have to try and speak at that moment.

So yes, I like old things. Old things are real. Old things have character and an understanding. Old things have weathered storms and fires and who knows what else to get where they are now. And old things, whether they be of stone or of flesh have a depth of care and protection that cannot be equaled by something new and unproven. And I pray that I can some day grow and learn enough to be really good at being an old thing.

A wet day of Shakespeare

“But tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the Instruments of Darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence.”

I could write a blog on the above quote and it is quite likely that one day I will. It is something that speaks deeply to me. But today I am choosing to simply begin my blog post with my favorite quote from Macbeth and that be it. Today we saw Macbeth performed in the Globe Theatre. I never really thought that I would be able to type that last sentence. What an absolute treat for me. It rained heavily through the night last night and we woke up to soggy skies and so we were kinda lazy and we did no morning exercise. It is surely a wise decision to close the season at the Globe around this time of year. It was pretty miserable watching that play today, both for the actors and for the audience. It gave us a very real experience but that is not always a good thing. We did some shopping and wandering this morning and then we made lunch and headed to the bus stop and over the bridge to the theatre. It was wet. It was cold. It was magical.

We watched the play, very near the stage. The acting was superb. That is so important in a setting such as the Globe for all you have are the actors and the bare stage. Very few props or set pieces. I love that. This is how it should be performed.

As soon as it was over we moved ourselves quickly back over the bridge and into a coffee shop for tea, hot chocolate, a bathroom, and some warmth. Further shopping, wandering, and the discovery of a quaint vegetarian restaurant rounded out our day.

I find myself feeling rather pensive tonight. As Dr. Dobson mentioned in his lecture last evening, that is to be expected after one has seen The Scottish Play. But it is something more than just the quiet weight I always feel after being exposed to this work. I am fighting some insecurities and this is causing me a great deal of reflection. At what point and at what level can one question what is told of them or shown to them by "authorities"? A couple of things that Dr. Dobson stated last night were contrary to my what I have come to feel about elements of Macbeth and Shakespeare's intentions. And today, there were a number of choices made by the director that frustrated me deeply. But this is the Globe Theatre. This is THE GLOBE THEATRE. LOCATED IN LONDON. THIS IS THE LAND OF SHAKESPEARE. Do I have any right to question or struggle with any choices that these obvious experts make? That is my struggle. I know what I know. I know what my heart has told me after years of studying Shakespeare and especially this play. And that is what I sit here, in a lovely flat in London, struggling with. And then it hits what else I know. I know that I have told countless numbers of students that if someone ever tells you, I do not care how impressive their credentials may be, that they can tell you what an author intended to say then you need to remove that person from as much influence as possible in your life. If they are a professor then you do what needs to be done to complete the work in that class but you beware of allowing that person much influence. A true mentor/leader will offer you the correct questions and guidance to come to your own understanding of what the author was saying TO YOU.

So...I am gonna take my own advice and I am going to allow myself to be frustrated by a number of the directorial choices in the offering that I saw today. And it is not prideful. It is fine, I have indeed put in the time and effort to have my own understanding. And I am going to be a wee bit sad that the impact that this play can have on people's hearts and psyches was watered down for the audiences that have seen this interpretation, in my opinion. And I am gonna embrace the jeers of literary snob that seem to come my way more and more often as I get old and crotchety.

I am still loving every minute of the trip, don't get me wrong just because I say that I am pensive. Perhaps this is part of the healing I was seeking on this trip. Perhaps I needed to find the strength to be willing to own the idea of thinking for myself. Hmmm...will have to do some further pondering on this matter.

And now...off to bed...

Providence

We had great aspirations to get up and do our exercise in the earlier hours of the morning...but...Erin was so sweet as to not bother me when she realized that I had not slept well. So we slept in and did not head out our separate ways until after 8:00. I am very grateful to Karen for kicking my butt out the door and making me exercise. Yesterday I whined that I was too tired because of what I had experienced on my flights over here but she would not allow any further whining from me. Go Karen!

As an aside, I really am grateful for this opportunity to spend this time with these two women who motivate me highly to improve my health and well being. They are grand examples and spending these days with them has and will help to strengthen my resolve to work towards health and the peace that health brings in my life.

We had hoped to be to the Globe Theatre by 10:00 when the box office opened to throw ourselves at their mercy and beg for tickets to one of these last two final performances of MacBeth. Those of you who understand my history with this play will know what an absolute dream come true it would be for me to see this performed in the Globe. However, because of our late start and the fact that it is so easy to become distracted when out running and exploring, we did not arrive at the Globe anywhere near ten o'clock. (Might I just say that the walk/run that I did alone this morning was something that I would not have traded for the world, see my FB status that outlines some of things I saw and experienced, it was a trip.) And when we approached the man at the box office he kind of rolled his eyes and told us that there were NO tickets available. But then a man in the next queue jumped in and offered to sell us three tickets to Friday's matinee and to throw in tickets to the behind the scenes lecture that was being presented tonight. We were elated. I cannot speak for Karen and Erin, but I am very excited that the tickets are for the grounds so I get to experience the Globe just as the commoners did back in the day and I wouldn't want it any other way. It turns out that this man was an English teacher, born in Rhode Island but now teaching at an embassy school in Uganda and four of his students, as well as his fellow traveling teacher had not been able to make the trip and so he had these extra tickets which he sold to us for face value, kicking in the lecture tickets as well. Everyone benefitted and we got, not only tickets, but also the opportunity for the lecture, something that I find terribly exciting.

After leaving the Globe with tickets in hand we ventured into a very different part of London looking for the Doctor Who shop. We found it, but we saw a very different side of London than we have been seeing in the Westminster/Covent Gardens area. It was good for us to experience this adventure. And Erin and I came away with two lovely Tardis keychains.

We then headed back to the area around the Globe where we found a French restaurant for food and enjoyed a wonderful repast until time to head to the lecture where I was so very excited to learn that we would have the privilege of hearing from Professor Michael Dobson himself. It is probably also providence that I did not think to ask this of the man who sold us the tickets because had I known that it was Dr. Dobson, I would have been and chattery and obnoxious companion leading up to the lecture. Dr. Dobson is the director of the Shakespeare Institute in Stratford Upon Avon and to have a chance to sit right there in that small meeting room and have him offer us his insights into the Scottish play. Well...it was the opportunity of a lifetime and I am terribly grateful.

I have thought a great deal about the providence that I see so often cropping up in my life. I am so very blessed and it really often does not feel like an accident. And today I find that especially true. First, there is the fact that Karen and Paul and their family chose to stay in Colorado all of those years ago when leaving was a very real possibility on their radar. And now they are a wonderful part of my life and are women that I can have this kind of experience with and also share time with them right at this time in my life when I am ready to make some changes that they are uniquely qualified to help me see clearly in this time and this place when I am removed from the distractions of my every day life.

Then there are the smaller things. Like feeling prompted to follow one crowd of people when I was out exercising this morning and finding myself in the Victoria Embankment Gardens. Everyone else was using the Gardens as a shortcut but I found a treasure. Things like the fact that when we got off of our bus stop at St. Paul's Cathedral, we took a slightly less than direct route to the Millennial Bridge and this caused us to go by an ancient church that I happened to glance up and read the placard only to see the words "St. Andrew-by-the-Wardrobe". This is the parish where a number of my ancestors were christened, married and buried. WOW! I had always assumed, due to the name, that this was located in some small town in the English countryside. But there it was, right in the heart of London. That was a real treat and part of an answer to the prayer I had offered to connect with the spirits of my ancestors while on this trip. And then there was the so perfect timing that put us at the box office of the Globe at the same moment as a kind man who had tickets to sell and even the opportunity to attend a lecture given by someone I admire greatly, adding tremendous richness to what is rapidly becoming a Shakespeare themed vacation. There are more, but you get the picture. It is my firm and solid belief that there is a higher being out there who is very aware of me and has love for me and understands just how much this trip means to me and I believe that I am being given a few choice providential moments that make an already magical experience one that is truly the experience of a lifetime.

Thoughts on my first full day in London

There is too much to say to just make a Facebook status. I have posted photos from today in the "London 2013" album if anyone is interested, you can find them there.

We began the day with a plan to see the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. This happens every other day and today was it, but as we approached the Palace, we found the streets blocked off and a large crowd forming and police everywhere. Karen is our question queen and so she found out that there was to be a military processional with a band and and runners carrying a baton representing the kickoff for the passing of said baton around the world to all of the Commonwealth countries prior to the Commonwealth games next year. We also learned that the Queen might make an appearance to pass the baton. So, we hung around and worked our way through the crowd a bit and managed to get a glimpse of Her Highness on the large video screen! I never imagined that this would happen while I was here. What a treat, even if her hat was one of the ugliest things that I have ever witnessed. We were not able to see the changing of the guard but we will catch that another day. It was while we were waiting in line that I heard the first of three of four precious gems that I heard from the mouths of warm and wonderful Brits that we struck up conversations with throughout our day. We were standing next to a family who were wondering if the Queen would really make an appearance and so they asked the policeman standing near us and he responded that she may or may not, depending upon how she felt. The man then followed up by asking, "Is there not some kind of protocol surrounding such things?" The policemen got the cutest twinkle in his eye and then he said, "The protocol is whatever she says it will be." It was adorable. And we got to see Sir Chris Hoy running with the torch in a kilt. Very nice.

From the Palace we wandered through St. James Park and it is so beautiful. We saw the most monstrous pelicans that I have ever seen. And they were NOT afraid of humans, but we were nervous about them. We made our way through the park over to the Parliament Square area with the intention of seeing both Westminster Abbey and Westminster Hall. When we got to the Abbey complex we first went into St. Margaret Chapel. It was so gorgeous and intimate, I fell in love with that building and it was delightful to find an Edward Lloyd buried there who was noted for his work as a printer and a wordsmith. I am SURE that I MUSt be related to him! As we moved into the Abbey itself and approached the man distributing the self guided tour handsets (it is a working church and services are often going on and so the tourists must make their way through in such a way as to keep it very reverent inside) he looked up and grinned and scolded Erin for taking a photo (photography is not allowed) and then grinned and said, "You must be Americans." Karen and Erin explained that they were originally Canadians but that we are all now Americans. He said he had no doubt that we were all from North America. His reply was intriguing to me when I asked how he knew we were North Americans. He said, "Because from the moment you walked through the doors you were happy, I could see it from all the way across the room. Americans are happy, Brits are not. You left and you took the happiness with you. It is like you decided that you wanted to be a happy people and so you broke away from the motherland and made your own, happy place and people." I thought he might be joking, but upon talking with him further, I realized that he was quite serious. In many ways, coming here to London has felt like a homecoming, but in that moment, it just washed over me how grateful I am to be an American and to be part of a happy people. We are so blessed and the liberties that we take for granted truly do make us a happy people. We need to fight to keep both these liberties and this happiness. We are in danger of losing both I fear.

Westminster Abbey was amazing. It is grandiose and yet there places of deep intimacy tucked away throughout the edifice. It was so beautiful. I just cannot express how I felt in there. However, the restriction on taking photos was a wee bit sad. I am grateful for such a rule, places of deeply spiritual importance should be shown such reverence, but there were things that I wish I could have come away with a photo memory of. I would have to say that my favorite part of the Abbey was Poets Corner. I will be posting a saying from one of my VERY favorite authors that is stated on this author's memorial plaque as my status in the morning. Seeing Chaucer's grave was awe inspiring, as were a number of other tombs, in particular Edward the Confessor. Something special about that one. I picked up a chart for my kids that shows the kings of England, with dear King Egbert right up there at the top. We were starved after leaving the Abbey and so we asked an Abbey worker on our way out and he directed us to a pub down the street that was perfect. And we sat and talked and laughed. We were very obviously Americans but I think that is good after what our friend in the Abbey said!

After lunch we wandered until the line going into Westminster Hall went away and then around 5:30 we were able to get into the Hall. This was a place that I was really looking forward to seeing as it is the Hall built by Richard II and I have been studying that play in preparation to seeing the play in Stratford and the idea of being in a building that was built in the 1300's was so intense. It was everything that I hoped it would be and more. We were able to not only see the building but we had the opportunity to witness a debate in the House of Commons over a government transparency bill. That was extremely interesting. And that led to my third most wonderful statement by a Brit today. After the government made their case on the second reading of the bill, a Scottish MP stood up and said, "That was such a pile of dog breakfast" in a super heavy Scottish brogue. I just about fell off of the bench up there in the gallery. Totally made my evening. We watched for a time and then struck up a conversation with an off duty policeman that was also there observing and learned more about the politics of the UK and then we walked out and got further information from a very nice security officer on the exit gates. Now I understand where things stand politically a bit better.

We wrapped up our day with wonderful curries in our home neighborhood and then Karen telling us British jokes until our tummies hurt. They do have a sense of humor, even if we took all of the happiness with us. We now continue the debate over whether or not we are indeed a happier people, we loud and crass Americans...what do you think?