Tag Archives: England

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A Tender Hello

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Father & Son Reunion

Father & Son Reunion

In airports, you often see the best and worst of people. Tired, cranky, and sometimes scared, they can be a field of emotional land mines to navigate through as you edge your way past bag drops and security check points. Frequently, it’s the people traveling for business who are at their worst. Believing themselves to be masters of their own universe, they can make life uncomfortable for everyone within hearing range when life changes the plan ever so slightly. I’ve traveled for business in the past and I understand the stress of getting to a distant location where people wait for your presentation. I know what it feels like to sink into believing that a missed flight is a missed opportunity that will be difficult to recover from. Rarely is that the case though. If what you offer is what’s needed, people will still want to hear you no matter when you arrive. 

In the last year, my travel life, business life, and love life have all gone through dramatic changes. Airports look different to me now. Instead of moving at breakneck speed towards departure gates or rental car pickups, I travel for love. Flying these days is about reuniting with family and friends or exploring places I’ve never been before. Since moving to Cornwall to marry my darling Englishman, my life has slowed down to a pace where I can breathe again. More importantly, I can see again. Instead of rushing about with my focus always on the future or getting things done, I have time to see what is in front of me. It is a gift of astronomical proportions and one I don’t take for granted.

It is with these fresh eyes that I captured the image you see above, a father and son reunion at the Atlanta airport taken last March while waiting for John to arrive. Although I was still working ferociously long days through a fog of must do items and endless lists, I was beginning to be able to see more clearly what was happening in the rest of the world. With love filling my own heart, I could pause to recognize it in those around me, even those who were strangers. Like the tender hello of the father to his son, I began to welcome the heart of me, perhaps the best part of me, back home where it belonged.

 

Today’s post was inspired by Karen Walrond’s post over at Shutter Sisters…take a look if you’ve never been before…it’s a good place to look for things you thought you’d lost.

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So Far Away

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Not So Far Away

Elizabeth, John, & Nik - Not So Far Away

 ” But you’re so far away
Doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door ”

– Carole King

Making a decision to move away from the familiar is not so easy for most people. To move so far away that it requires an extended plane ride or maybe even several to reconnect with those we care about is becoming more common and a little less painful thanks to the many ways that exist for family and friends to stay connected. Yesterday, John and I paid a little visit to Alaska all the way from England for my nephew Nik’s birthday party. Thanks to the internet, iChat, and my sisters willingness to shift her desktop Mac around, John and I were able to “be present” for the family gathering. 

It was great fun to watch Nik open his presents, blow out his candles and sing a rousing round of Happy Birthday to him with his older brother Sam accompanying us on electric guitar. Sam would have made Jimi Hendrix proud as he opened the party with a raucous version of the Happy Birthday tune.  

The world’s a different place than when I turned eleven in 1971 and Carole King was singing, ” So Far Away “.  Far away isn’t quite so far now and although we couldn’t taste the yummy looking (no trans fats included) cake my sister Margaret made, we could gather together for a photograph with the birthday boy… bringing ourselves virtually into the living room though still not quite a face at the door.

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Breaking Up

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Children all over England are running free for the next two weeks as schools broke up for the Easter holiday on Friday. Two things stand out for me as being different from what I’m used to in America…Easter holiday and breaking up. I think in America you only hear the term Spring Break being used to denote the time period when children get a week off from school rather than Easter break. While it would not be considered politically correct to use the term Easter break in America, using Easter and Christmas to denote a school break in England is still the norm.

The children here have an interesting schedule that varies a bit from what my daughter went through in the American school system. The schedule in England has a more liberal time off period during the school year, but a shorter break for summer. American children are out for roughly 11 weeks in summer while 6 weeks is typical here. English schools start later in September and break up for summer around July 20, but they’re off for 7 weeks at various points during the school year plus 4 additional days referred to as Bank holidays. American children have 4 weeks off with a few miscellaneous days thrown in such as MLK’s birthday along with a few others.

The size of the schools vary as well. The village school here has 20 students and  3 teachers along with 1 teaching assistant. It’s a primary school and accepts children ages 4-11.  Surprisingly even though it’s reminiscent of rural schools that don’t exist anymore in most places in America, there is a computer for every child and musical instruments of various kinds as well.  It’s set in the sweetest location and the children seem very happy and well connected despite the mix of ages. The older children help the younger ones in ways you wouldn’t see in larger schools in America where the grades are separated and the different classes tend to stay within their own age group. Here in our village school, the oldest child has a chance to be a leader and guide to the younger children and it seems to work very well.

I had a chance yesterday to snap a few photographs at the School Fete where teachers, parents and students along with some community members gathered together sell home baked goods, plants, and toys, to raise money for school trips and extras. Even though I don’t have a child in the school, I have an interest through my friend and running partner Tina, who has twin daughters who attend there. I sent some cookies I made (Bear Scat, a recipe I picked up on my recent trip to Alaska) along for the sale and John and I purchased a couple of chances on the duck race that capped the days fun. The school has a bridge right next to it with a lovely bit of water that the ducks were released into a bit further upstream. The children along parents and grandparents stood on the bridge cheering as the ducks floated down with different numbers written on their backsides in waterproof ink.  It was a wonderful bit of fun for the children on their last day before breaking up for Easter break.  The Head teacher, Mr. Ratcliffe along with two other teachers, Mrs. Webber and Mr. Knibbs got into the spirit of things by dressing in costume for the big scoop out. They did a great job chasing down the little yellow ducks that most of us would associate more with a hot bath rather than a cool river run.

I scooted down to the waters edge and stretched out on a big rock to capture a few memories of Duck Race 2009.

 

Mr. Ratcliffe (Center In Chicken Suit)

Mr. Ratcliffe (Center In Chicken Suit)

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(L to R) Mr. Knibb, Mrs. Webber, and Head teacher, Mr. Ratcliffe

The Newspaper Photographer Getting Her Shot

The Newspaper Photographer Getting Her Shot

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Mrs. Webber Breaks The Net

Mrs. Webber Breaks The Net

 

Ready, Set, Go!

Ready, Set, Go!

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The Big Scoop

 

The One That Got Away

The One That Got Away

 

 

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Baby Steps

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John Walking With Mom

John Walking With Mom

Sometimes all we need is a little support when we’re learning how to do things we’ve never done before. In the picture above, John is wearing something they call a walking harness and reins here in England. It’s designed to increase stability and confidence when young ones are learning to walk. Parents can hold onto the reins giving the illusion of total independence, while keeping the child a bit safer and somewhat close at hand.  You still see them in use here as I saw recently when we were out one day. 

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There are times lately when I feel like I could use a guiding hand at the end of a set of reins. The work I’m doing these days is multi-layered and requires a good bit of  juggling.  I’m teaching myself how to do things I’ve never done before and it’s just plain hard at times. I see other people doing the very things I want to do with such ease and I forget that it often looks easy because they’ve been doing it a while. I try to remind myself of this when I feel frustrated that I haven’t moved as quickly in the creative directions I have mapped out in my mind and on paper.  On days when my frustrations threaten a total boycott of creative focus, I find myself saying, ” Baby steps, Elizabeth…walk first.” Being a runner in real life, my daily internal dialogue can mirror what goes on in my head during a race and suddenly the creative process gets bogged with chatter that sounds a bit like , “where’s the finish line, how much time do I have left to get there, who’s in front, and can I push through this pain…”  

I’ve rewritten a last paragraph five different ways and still don’t like the look it so..I’m going to finish with these last words and get back to work… remembering as I go, that baby steps are just first steps and they’ll get bigger as I grow.

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Three Weeks Ago Today…

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Three weeks ago today John and I were doing this….

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It began to snow just as our reception was coming to a close and when John and I went on a walk later that night things were being to look a bit like this…   

Is it  just me or does anyone else see a shape in the photograph below?

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 What began as a few flakes became this by morning. I grabbed my camera and headed out early for a quick walk and a few photographs before the rest of house was up and out. Remember, we had wedding guests who’d slept over as the roads had not been drivable the evening before. I was excited and worried about all the snow since we had a honeymoon flight to Paris scheduled for that day. Not wanting to miss the early morning light and the fresh snow I drank a quick cup of coffee, pulled on my wellies and headed out.

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The Buttercup Field In Winter

The Buttercup Field In Winter

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Our Parish Church

As I passed by the parish church again on my way back home, I saw that the roads were still icy and cars were not yet able drive out of our village due to the amount of hills where we live.  When I arrived home, John said that his younger daughter had decided to try to walk out of the village and up to a motor way where she could arrange for a cab to meet her and her 4 year old daughter. Her plan was to try make it to a train station and on to the flight they had scheduled to return to their home. John and I had tickets to fly out of Bristol to Paris later that day for our honeymoon so we knew if we were going to make it, we would need to hike out as well. I’ll be back tomorrow to tell you more of our post wedding adventures, but for now…here’s a little preview.

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I’m Official… Limited Leave To Remain Approved!

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Sample of Identity Card for UK

Sample of Identity Card for UK

The sample above is an example of what my coveted identity card will look like…well with a few changes like my face and details instead of Susanna Sample’s student info.

This little card is good for two years and confers more than a few benefits on the person to whom it belongs, chief of which for me is the right to stay in England with John. Additionally, with my new status I can now work in the UK. For someone like myself who tends to be a bit of a workaholic, getting this card yesterday was reason for a celebration on multiple levels.

John and I traveled about five hours north to Birmingham on Tuesday in order to meet with the UK Boarder Agency office staff on Wednesday for a 10:00 am appointment. Once there, we were interviewed and had our documents reviewed quite carefully and after a I submitted to another biometric scan of my face and fingerprints, we waited about a hour or so to receive the official word that I had been approved.  Total time spent with the appointment about 3.25 hours. Everyone was very polite and helpful, but as I told John while waiting, the spartan office environment reminded me of the calls I used to make on physicians who worked in public health clinics in America.  

It could have been the plain utilitarian furnishings in the various waiting rooms or the crying babies and small children running around, but I think it was something about the white tile floors that made me feel most like I was in a free clinic waiting to see a doctor.  The biggest difference was the on site security screening with guards and the way the chairs were chained together. Additionally, the staff was tucked safely behind the kind of protective glass one usually sees in an open all night convenience store in America and every where you looked were signs saying that you could not abuse the staff. It made me wonder if the chairs were chained so they couldn’t be thrown in a fit of anger. It’s probably more likely they just want them to stay where they’re placed instead of having large groups come in and rearrange the chairs for convenience. More signage that was very prevalent was that which spoke of  their commitment to a respectful exchange and their desire to provide good service. I’d say they accomplished all of that and not just with the two of us, but with all of the interactions I observed with others as well.

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Will You Stay With Me, Will You Be My Love

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Will You Stay With Me, Will You Be My Love....

Will You Stay With Me, Will You Be My Love

Today is the anniversary of the day I first stepped off a plane in England and into John’s arms. We’d spent the previous six weeks first emailing and later talking on Skype so we’d seen each other online for quite some time, but had never touched. Very quickly, I developed a huge crush on the darling Englishman who is now my husband. That we met for the first time in person on Valentine’s Day was more because it suited my work and travel arrangements than by romantic design. Because I had so many frequent flyer miles and a keen interest in seeing John in his own space, I suggested the idea that I come to him. I came with an open mind and a tender heart, but no expectations beyond the idea of getting to know him as only one can when actually in the same physical space.

As I write this, I have just been reminded by John that one year ago today, exactly 30 minutes from now, my plane touched down in a tiny airport in Newquay.  It is a vivid memory for us both and it’s funny now to look back and remember the thoughts and feelings I was having as I walked down the steps of the commuter flight across the tarmac and into his warm embrace that morning.

Any of you who’ve been reading my old blog ( http://www.giftsofthejourney.com ) for long are aware of how this first meeting progressed from friendship and mutual attraction to the sweet ceremony we went through not quite two weeks ago. It seems appropriate to share our buttercup story and why these tiny yellow flowers have such meaning for me now.

When I arrived on that chilly day February 14, John asked me if I felt up to a little walk along the ocean on the coast path at a place called Bedruthen Steps. It was on the way back to the tiny village where he made his home and he was exited to show me a bit of the Cornish coast that he’d been telling me about for weeks. Despite having been too excited to sleep on the plane, I was definitely interested in seeing any of the places I had heard him refer to during the hours of talks we’d had using Skype.

We gradually worked our way back to the village and after putting on wellies we took a walk though a beautiful wood that opened into what I now refer to as the buttercup field. Of course, in February there were no buttercups, but I was intrigued as John described how by May the field would be covered in gold as the buttercups competed  with the constant green of the grassy space. As he told me this I thought how lovely that would be, but it was only after having spent the better part of two weeks with him that I knew with absolute certainty that I needed to come back to this field and stand in the middle of the buttercups that he said would come with the month of May.

Jumping ahead here and skipping over the activities that happened in order to bring me back, I arrived  back in England on May 13th. As I got closer to my travel date, I kept asking John, “ Have the buttercups bloomed yet? “ I was so worried that I would miss them.

Below are some of the images from the day I arrived in May last year. Few things in life are just as we imagine they will be, but this day was special and it was better than I could have imagined.  When I first saw the field of gold, I could almost hear Eva Cassidy’s voice singing in my head providing a romantic soundtrack to accompany the images that filled my eyes.  The song I heard was Fields Of Gold and I now think of this as our song. Take a minute and listen to it here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3YVil3Ajjs

I love the part of the song where she sings, ” Will you stay with me, will you be my love…”  These words were embroidered on a special linen tablecloth by my new friend Tina to use on our table for our wedding reception. The flowers you see are the two buttercups I picked that day in May. I tucked them in a pocket on the side of my pants and played in the buttercup field with them where they stayed until we returned  home. I forgot they were there and when I noticed them again, I took them out and pressed them in a book. They dried twined together having fallen into the position that you see in the picture. I took a photograph of them and Tina created a sketch from it and the tablecloth design is a now a lasting memory of the day I came back to John and saw the buttercups for the first time.

I’m off now to climb Bedruthen Steps with John as we go back to the place we walked one year ago today. Today we’ll celebrate old memories and look forward to making new ones…and soon we’ll be walking in fields of gold again.

Fields of Gold - Buttercups

Fields of Gold - Buttercups

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The Two Buttercups

The Two Buttercups

Here’s a last photo for today from where retraced our path along Bedruthen Steps.

John & Elizabeth, The Return

John & Elizabeth, The Return

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Happiness Lives Here

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Welcome to Gifts of the Journey.

If you are reading this first post  you’re probably a friend or family member and it is primarily for you that I’ve created giftsofthejourney.com.

Most of you are aware that in the last six weeks my life has changed dramatically, I’ve gone from having an American zip code to a post code found in the United Kingdom and a new living situation along the Cornish coast of England.

I hope to share my life here in England though regular posts written for you like a series of picture postcards from abroad. Please drop by often and say hello.

This has been moved from my original GOTJ website and dusted off to take its place with the others.