There She Goes Again

A running commentary about my time teaching in Belfast, Nothern Ireland, and any other shenanigans that might come my way while I'm there.

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Although rain prevented me from getting as many pictures as I would’ve liked, here are some of my favourites from my weekend in Edinburgh!

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happy proof that not all hikes lead to broken bones. also, I love this city. #edinburgh (at Arthur's Seat)

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where JK Rowling began writing Harry Potter... 🤓⚡️#yerawizardharry #magic #theelephanthouse (at The Elephant House)

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the best broken wrist quotes.

My students have absolutely LOVED hearing stories about my broken wrist, and their reactions did not disappoint!

Pupil: MISS WHAT DID YOU DO?!?

Me: I broke my wrist!

Pupil: How did you manage that?

Me: I was hiking Cave Hill and I slipped and fell.

Pupil: You call that hiking?

Pupil: Miss, your arm! What happened?

Me: I slipped while hiking Cave Hill and broke my wrist.

Pupil: I’ve hiked Cave Hill and never broken my wrist.

Pupil: Why is your arm in a cast, Miss?

Me: I broke my wrist.

Pupil: Happy Thanksgiving to you?

Pupil: Miss, did you break your arm?

Me: Yeah, technically I broke my wrist.

Pupil: Bet you never thought a cast would be your biggest souvenir from Belfast!

Pupil 1: Miss, how big was the puddle?

Me: What do you mean?

Pupil 1: You know, the one you slipped in before you broke your wrist. 

Pupil 2: It wasn’t a puddle, she fell off a ledge.

Pupil 3: No she didn’t, she tripped.

Me: Well boys, if you let me explain...I slipped off a little ledge and sort of landed in a puddle.

Pupil 1: So how big was the puddle?

Pupil: How badly did it hurt? Did you know you’d broke it straight away?

Me: Honestly, when I was sitting on the ground after I fell, all I could think is, “I’ve never felt pain like this” and “I’m sitting in wet mud and need to stand up.”

Pupil: So did they let you in the hospital with all that mud?

Pupil: Miss, what shoes were you wearing?

Me: The same shoes I wear running.

Pupil: Ahhhhhh. That’s why you slipped. Didn’t have hiking shoes. Or hiking poles?

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when chasing rainbows leads to a broken wrist, you earn the right to take a mirror selfie of your new fashion accessory.

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the stunning view a few minutes before I fell and broke my wrist...

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QOTD

I’m a little (or lot) behind on my quotes of the day, but here’s one from last week that I think will make up for it...

Pupil: Miss, it’s true you call crisps chips, right? And you call chips fries?

Me: Yep! Does fries sound strange to you?

Pupil: Well, yes.

...a few minutes later...

Pupil: Miss, what would happen if you were to go into a shop and order chips because you wanted crisps but they gave you chips?!

Me:...well, I guess I would just eat the chips?

Pupil: Class*.

*“class” is their equivalent for “awesome” or “amazing.”

[cmstcyr1989]

This week, I'm teaching my students about Thanksgiving, which is a totally new holiday for them. As part of a school wide assembly, @lexie.katz and I asked them to think about things in their lives that they can be thankful for. The result? One of my students wrote me a thank you note. And I cried. #thanksgiving #weerascal #makesitallworthit

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weekending in Dublin

It’s a small world, y’all.

During my freshman year at Wake Forest, I became good friends with a girl named Jessica, who lived in the room next to mine. We spent many a meal and many a weekend together. Her boyfriend Andrew would come visit from time to time, and he was also quite spectacular. Jess sadly transferred to William & Mary after our freshman year, but I’ve managed to keep in touch with Jess and Andrew and see them both at various points across the last few years. 

Fast forward to present day. One of the girls here in Belfast with me is Natalie, who lives in the room across the hall from mine. It just so happens that Natalie went to William & Mary, played ultimate frisbee with Jess & Andrew, and considers them close friends!

Jess and Andrew decided to spend their Thanksgiving vacation in Ireland and France, so naturally Natalie and I had to take advantage of the fact they were just a few hours away. We hopped a bus to Dublin on Saturday morning, and had a wonderful weekend reunion.

We wandered the city, ate delicious pub food, drank whiskey, danced some Irish jigs (all by ourselves), had grown-up conversations about real topics (I needed those real bad), toured some beautiful churches, and drank some coffee (with and without whiskey). Here are a few pictures from the weekend!

St Patrick’s Cathedral...

A group shot on the Ha’Penny Bridge over the River Liffey...

St. Patrick’s again...

One of the entrances to St. Stephen’s Green...

Dublin Castle...

Ha’Penny Bridge...

The crew inside of Dublin Castle...

The River Liffey...

A lovely pond in St. Stephen’s Green...

Can’t hardly believe I’ll be back in the States in less than four weeks! It’s flying by.

Love to all,

C

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I went to church tonight at the same place I went last week, and was so thankful to be with a community for some worship, prayer, and processing of the events that happened on Friday in Paris.

The pastor preached on God’s love, focusing in 1 John 4 & 5, with references to stories of God’s love in both the Old and New Testaments. Such reassuring and sweet reminders of a God who loved us first, and a God who acts in bold and sacrificial ways to save us time and time again. 

1 John 4: 9-11

“God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.”

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une prière.

I’m in a coffee shop overlooking the River Lagan and, despite my best efforts to create lesson plans for school next week, my mind and my heart keep straying to the tragedies that took place last night in Paris.

These events are really hitting me hard. One may be right to say I should have this reaction every time life is lost, but something about this hurts at a different level. Maybe it’s because of my deep connection to France -- my time living in in that beautiful country was one of the most formative experiences of my life, and I hold a deep love for its people and its places. Maybe it’s because I’m far away from home, and don’t have familiar, comforting spaces to go to. Maybe it’s because this feels like it happened just next door, and that is scary. Maybe it’s because I feel a surprising sense of overwhelming sadness and shock, and yet I know it’s nothing compared to what the families and friends of those who were killed are feeling.

Amidst all of this, I’m also overwhelmed by the undeniable truth that we live in a broken world. It seems that violent actions, whether they are spurned by a selfish sense of superiority, hatred of others, or perhaps a deep sense of loneliness and shame, are occurring at an ever-increasing rate. I don’t mean to be pessimistic, but it is a rare month that goes by without another story about tragic loss of life.

In times of tragedy, the response from many includes the word love. Love will win. Just love more, and that will fix things. Many Christians embrace this message too -- God is love, and His love is a means by which we are able to live better, happier lives. 

That’s not wrong. But that’s not the whole story, either. 

How does one hold onto the truth that God is love in the face of something like what happened in Paris? How does one reconcile the God who is love with an event like this, where evil seems to have gained ground? 

You can’t. That is, you can’t without looking at the fullest picture of who God is. And the fullest picture of who God is includes Jesus Christ, the Saviour, who came to save a broken, imperfect world. A world full of people who have the capacity to do many small things, and sometimes really big things, that destroy the lives of others. A world where evil sometimes gains a foothold. 

But here’s the good news: It’s also a world that Jesus has overcome. 

When I think about acknowledging Jesus as a Saviour, I also think about our continued need for a Saviour. I don’t know about y’all, but I certainly can’t reflect on the last 24 hours and think, “Nah, we’re good. We don’t need any help from a Saviour. We’ve got this.” Come to think of it, I can’t really reflect on any time in the history of the world and say, “They totallyyyy had it figured out.” Can you?

So, if we need a Saviour because we’re all broken, and we can’t ever fix our world on our own, what are we supposed to do?  

To my fellow Christians: Forget the hashtags. Forget the blue, white, and red overlays on Facebook profile pictures. Forget the sharing of those “I went to Paris one time so I have a connection to this tragedy” photos. Instead...pray. Weep for your brothers and sisters. Cry out to the Lord for help. Rely on His Word. And above all, be bold. Don’t shy away from sharing the full truth of the Gospel. Don’t merely say “Love will win,” and leave it there. Say, “Love will win because we have a perfect Saviour who died on a cross and defeated death so that we could be freed from the mess we created.” 

To those who don’t claim Christianity as their faith: Pray, in your own way. Weep for your brothers and sisters. Cry out to whoever you cry out to. But above all, I would encourage you to be bold too. Ask your Christian friends about this guy named Jesus. Read about him. And if you find yourself pushing against this idea of “needing a Saviour,” ask yourself some questions. Why doesn’t the world need a Saviour? Are we humans completely capable of fixing everything that is wrong in this world? Are you resisting the idea of a Saviour because it’s scary to admit we can’t do it all on our own -- that we have to trust in a power that we don’t get to control? Could there really be a Heavenly Father who wants to save us from ourselves?

For my brothers and sisters in Paris, I am so, so very sorry. There are few words that will bring the kind of comfort that you truly need. Know that I am crying with you. Know that I am angry for you. And know that I am praying without ceasing. I am praying for safety, for peace, for healing, for comfort, and for the return of that joie de vivre that makes you, you. 

I pray that hearts would be changed, that the world would continue to hear the message of the Gospel, and that, little by little, the power of Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit would drive away the darkness and the evil that is trying so desperately to root itself in the hearts of so many. 

Love from Belfast,

C

[cmstcyr1989]

Loving the fact that C.S. Lewis grew up in Belfast. Queen’s University has a stunning reading room honouring the great author and theologian. Sadly it was closed today, but even the outside of the room is quite magical! 

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weekending in Belfast.

Today marked the end of my fourth week here, and yet it’s the first weekend I spent exploring the city.

Friday turned out to be quite a dull day, as I learned the hard lesson that stomach bugs are just as ruthless in Northern Ireland as in the States. I sadly was forced to choose the comfort of my twin bed and the company of Netflix over a group day trip to the Ulster American Folk Park (a historical site like a Williamsburg). I think the day provided some much needed rest, however, and I was luckily feeling much better by Saturday.

The best indoor market in the U.K. (per the advertisements I see around town) is here in Belfast, so some friends and I went to check it out on Saturday morning. St. George’s Market, housed in a historic building near the river, is packed full of all kinds of stalls -- seafood, produce, meats, cheeses, sandwiches, crepes, coffees, SO MANY BEAUTIFUL CUPCAKES, crafts, doughnuts, artwork, and more. A large space is cleared out in the middle for some tables and a small stage for live music. We wandered through the stalls, treated ourselves to coffee and doughnuts, and then sat for a while to listen to music.

After deciding that the market would become my new weekend routine, I headed back to Stran for a lazy afternoon. I planned on a nap, but ended up Skyping with my parents instead. Of course, no Skype session is complete without a solid five minutes where I talk to my cat even though she has NO CLUE why Mom is holding her up to a computer screen. sigh.

The evening brought the first of the season’s many Christmas festivities. Yes, Christmas. And yes, I know it’s not even halfway through November. Before you judge my premature celebrations, here’s what you need to know. Normally, I have a strict “NO CHRISTMAS TIL AFTER THANKSGIVING” rule. Every holiday deserves its own time and Christmas decorations showing up before Thanksgiving drive me bonkers. Ask one of my dear former D.C. roommates, Emily. She used to sneak Christmas tunes in the house before Thanksgiving, but only when I wasn’t around or within earshot, because I’d be fussy about it (Sorry for being a grinch, Em. You’re the best and I hope you’re already listening to Christmas music this year). So, why am I all of a sudden singing a different (Noel) tune? Well, there ain’t no Thanksgiving in Northern Ireland so technically I’m not overshadowing any upcoming holiday with all things Christmas. At least, this is how I am justifying the fact that I totally kicked off the Christmas season on November 7.

I mean, I can’t NOT say hey to one of Santa’s reindeer, you know?

The biggest shopping centre in Belfast, Victoria Square, had a Christmas tree lighting last night, and I was gleefully in attendance. There was a parade, featuring some of the most precious little ballerinas I have ever seen. There were Christmas songs, which I sang quite robustly. And of course, Santa and Mrs. Claus were there to flip the switch for all of the Christmas lights.

After admiring the lights, my friends and I grabbed dinner out on the town. I tried to order a classy cocktail at the restaurant but somehow managed to pick a drink that is served in a teapot. 

Sunday brought a restful morning, followed by another trip to St. George’s Market. I wanted to get some fresh fruits and vegetables for the week, and came home with gorgeous kale, arugula, apples, clementines, and strawberries. 

Oh, I also stopped into H&M to buy some cheap workout clothes for my upcoming pilates class and...

...got a new cat sweater for the holidays and couldn’t be more thrilled. Sorry not sorry, folks. Unashamedly love all things cats and well, this sweater clearly spoke to me. As I’m sure it does to you.

After a quick dinner in the dining hall, my friend Catie and I went to an evening service at a Presbyterian church a few minutes from campus. It’s the first opportunity I’ve had to go to church here in Belfast, and I’m so thankful I was able to go tonight. The evening service at Fisherwick Presbyterian Church turned out to be an intimate gathering of about 40 people, but it was lovely. The sermon included an insightful and well-timed piece of truth: we are freed by grace and, because of the freedom we have Christ, we are equipped to serve others without fear of failing or “not being enough.” Teaching is a hard profession, and there are times when I feel overwhelmed by all that is required of me as an educator. But the simple reminder that I am freed by grace and therefore equipped for service was probably the best reminder I could’ve had as I go into another week of teaching. 

I’ll make an effort to share stories this week about how my lessons are going at school. The lessons are going well, and I’m having a blast teaching. I’m still learning all the boys’ names (I teach almost 10 different classes across six different grades), but I’m excited about the connections I already see forming between my students and me.

Love to all,

C

[cmstcyr1989]

QOTD

Miss, miss!

Is butter the same in the United States?

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Although there are more photos and epic stories to come, I wanted to share some initial favourite captures from my time in Italy.

Love to all,

C

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QOTD

I think I’m going to have to begin a “Quote(s) of the Day” feature. Here’s a wee sampling from today.

Pupil: Miiiissss! MISS, MISS, MISS!

Me: Are you alright? What can I help you with?

Pupil: What’s a corndog?

Pupil: I don’t drink much Red Bull. Or fizzy drink. BUT, I’ll tell you what. My father’s brother...no, my uncle...no, my father’s uncle! Well, he drinks beer like a mad man! I called him an alcoholic and got told off.

Pupil: Miss, what do you call crisps in America?

Me: Chips.

Pupil: That’s ridiculous.

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For those who have been asking...

...and for those who may be interested, here’s my address!

Carolyn St. Cyr (IFSA-Butler)

Dunseverick, 2.2

Stranmillis University College

Stranmillis Road

Belfast

Northern Ireland

BT9 5DY