Whohooo…we are finally here!!!  It doesn’t get better than this!  When I was a kid, my teachers called me a dreamer.  I think the actual headmistress who said this meant it in a derogatory way, but I say, “Dream your dreams and then maybe one day you actually get to live them.”  So another adventure begins…

Compared to our usual travel to Nairobi, the flight from LAX to London seemed fairly short…11 hours.  We spent the first night in London arranging and rearranging luggage and belongings to narrow our things down to two light bags for the next two weeks, leaving the others behind at our hotel to pick up when we pass through on our way to Africa in 10 short days.  In the meantime, our goal is to hike The Cotswold Way, 105 miles from Chipping Campden to Bath, England.

First thing we noticed when we got here is that springtime is definitely late in coming this year.  Everyone agrees and even tells us that it snowed just a few weeks ago. It’s very cold and windy, but thankfully, no rain.   Amy mentioned last minute that I might want to take my long silk undies and am I ever glad.  I’ve had them on ever since we got here!

This morning we had our first adventure getting the train from London to Slough, then changing trains to get to the little village of Moreton-on-Marsh, where because it’s Sunday and no bus service, we took a short taxi ride to the nearby village where the Cotswold Way begins, Chipping Campden.  All went well and it was so fun to be traveling on a Sunday.  There were so many Englishmen traveling to see Mum (so various overheard conversations on cells told me) or groups with rucksacks (backpacks) and walking sticks going to walk one of the many footpaths England has to offer.  I felt so at home!

So, so far so good.  Zoe in our little B&B that has only two rooms greeted us by name, introduced us to the “snuggly room,” and  gave us a map of town, which we walked in about 10 minutes.  We did find the signs pointing out the Cotswold Way, so we are reassured that we’re in the right place.  She asked us if we’d like to have the full English breakfast of sausages, eggs, baked beans, yogurt, fruit, pastries, and bacon before starting out tomorrow morning.  I’m so hoping that includes a cup of coffee, too!  Headed off to bed as Roger is insistent we get on the road by 8:00 for our 10 mile trek to our next stop.

Railway Station

Our First Night’s Stay

Greeted by flowers in our room

St. John’s Church – Where The Walk begins

Cold, but VERY happy!

Secret gardens are everywhere!

Africa calls.  Here are some of the reasons why:

Sometimes God seems really far away. I feel kind of like the little boy in the famous picture…..staring up at the moon. I imagine that he’s wondering what God is doing way up there billions of miles away…and how alone and forgotten he must feel in his lonely spot on planet earth. Last night I was reminded of the things in my spirit, the Holy Spirit that somehow has miraculously set up house in me. I was reflecting on when I give him room, He just bursts forth expressing all the passion and love and intensity that only the living God could have.

It was Tuesday night when my spiritual community gathers. We take turns where to meet and last night once again we were gathered in Ingrid’s cozy living room. Everyone knows that dinner first in the Hilton’s house means that we leave the table full and very satisfied. We all love it when it’s Ingrid’s turn, because the creations and love that come out of her kitchen tell us how special we are and intensely loved. It’s like coming home.

That’s how God is…coming home. He’s big and I get to be small, but so loved and so important. I forget…continually…how close God is. Last night I was invited to worship this King who seems to sit on a throne a billion miles away, yet He calls me daughter, child of his. What Father doesn’t want to be with his child? I’m sure some can’t; but this God Father can and does and passionately wants to be with me. I sat and worshipped and then in time of quiet, picked up my pen and began to write. It’s there sometimes He speaks, words flowing rapidly from his heart to mine. Often reassuring, sometimes instructing, consistently speaking how much He loves me. He does not withhold, He speaks. I can hear. The Lord is my Shepherd and I’m reminded that his sheep hear and know and recognize his voice.

Then we prayed, two by two’s. And, God spoke to me again, by His Spirit living and being and using one child to reassure another…comforting, forgiving, loving.  This gift of the Holy Spirit is intriguing…calling on Him to move and speak and give freedom to. It’s He who loves the unlovely using me who cannot do it on my own. It’s He who knows and helps me sense a stranger’s pain or loss or loneliness and tells me what to do to show there’s even love for them. God is close, so very close. I can do nothing apart from Him. I can barely make it from open morning eyes to standing without the confidence and hope in Him to do for me what I cannot do alone. He’s here, the Holy Spirit is full within. If I come, I find Him standing, waiting quietly, patiently, ready to speak…if I listen.

Well, I wish I could tell you that I had spent 40 days in fasting, prayer and intense worship, but alas, that’s not the case.  Instead, I was hurrying to get out the door that morning.  I was traveling south to LA.  Some days it takes a lot of effort just to get me and my “stuff” into the car . . . you know frantically holding the top down on the suitcase while painstakingly tugging at the zipper to make it around the corners without completely pulling the whole suitcase apart . . . only then to discover the neatly piled toiletries still lying on the counter top yet to be shoved in as well.

So no, it hadn’t been a particularly spiritual morning as I finally got myself and my things into the car and pointed south at last.  Traveling up and down the southern coast of California many times, I’ve come to have my favorite exit for a quick potty stop and filling up my drink container.  This trip was no different.  There it was at last, Seaward Avenue exit, where yes, the golden arches of McDonald’s proudly stood.  Relief at last.

I scrambled through the wreckage of debris accumulated on the passenger seat, found my purse, jumped out to get my drink.  Of course, there were a billion people milling around in some sort of lines waiting to place their order with one of the five cashiers standing ready and waiting.  I stood there impatiently digging in the bottom of my purse for the $1.08 it would take for my large, extra large drink to sustain me for the rest of my journey.  I happened to glance up to see how many more people were in the line ahead of me and that’s when the cashier caught my eye.  He was a young Hispanic boy, maybe 18 to 20, looking ridiculously uncomfortable in his red shirt tucked partially into black pants.  That’s when all of the sudden I heard it.  Well, felt it in my spirit.  “Tell that young man how proud I am of him.  Tell him that he has worked hard, sacrificed much, but he is making very, very good choices now and I am so very, very proud and pleased with him.  And, tell him, too, how much I love him.”

No need to tell you.  I’m thinking, “God, are you crazy?  There is absolutely NO WAY I’m going to tell that kid that.  He’ll probably knife me or something.  Especially, have you seen all this crowd here?  Everyone is busy wanting to place their order and get their food and get the heck out of here.”  So, I kept arguing with God while inch by inch my turn was slowly approaching.

Just as I stepped up to order, I couldn’t believe it.  The young guy slipped away some…where to do some…thing and a business-like little gal took his place asking, “How can I help you?”  Oh my gosh, that was so, so close.  I was so relieved to be off the hook.  I have to tell you that there was no way I was not going to go through with it, though.   Me and God have a long history of his telling me to do something and then my not doing it, and then I have to deal with all of the guilt and regret and remorse and repenting that goes on afterward.  It’s just so not worth it…ok, sometimes worth it, but seriously not pleasant.

Wondering what that was all about, I grabbed my gigantic cup, went over to fill it up, crammed the lid down, stuck the straw in and turned to leave.  That’s when it all fell apart.  I looked over to the counter where just seconds before had stood five or six anxious cashiers.  There was NO ONE.  I looked around the huge open space in front of the counter.  NO ONE.  Not even one customer where there had been so many before.  Well, no one EXCEPT one.  Yep, you guessed it:   the little Hispanic guy God had been talking to me about.

Well, what else could I do?  I went up to the counter, acknowledged straight up that he would probably think I was some kind of wingnut, but I wanted to tell him something that I believed God wanted to say to him.  That’s when he visibly took two steps backwards, and I think possibly might have been considering to call his manager.  Instead he waited there with nothing less than horror on his face.  Then I told him what I had heard talking as quickly as I possibly could.  That guy’s eyes were the size of saucers.  He nearly jumped over to the counter with the biggest grin on his face and excitement coming from every pore of his being.  “How did you know that?  Why are you saying that?  I’ve just finished a program at my school and I’m getting ready to apply for the next term.  I can’t believe you said that.”  That boy was beaming.  And me?  Yep, I felt pretty stupid, but it was pretty awesome.  What’s really awesome is that God loves people.  He just loves them.  He tries to show us and he tries to tell us in so many ways.  He sure showed me that day and I hope that young man was able to see how much He loves him, too.