On My Way

A map of the journey as I spend a year of service in England.

[onmywayuk]

Ruined windows I saw this year

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Snapshots from this week! After school ended, Hannah came to visit and we've been on all sorts of touristy adventures. Including several castles/palaces, tea, pubs, and all things Jane Austen.

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Last house meeting of the year!! Hard to believe it's only three more sleeps until the end of term!

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The penultimate newsletter!

We’re not gonna talk about how late this one is...

[onmywayuk]

I walked 40 miles in four days around the tip of Cornwall. It was gorgeous. 

God of wildflowers and ocean cliffs, Thank you for filling thw world with wonder. Open our eyes to the beauty that is all around us, as well as that which is within us. Help us to see your love in every butterfly, blossom, and pebble beach. To you be the glory. Amen. 

[onmywayuk]

Thoughts on Wemmicks

This is the transcript from an assembly I did in the senior school last month. 

Have you ever read “You Are Special” by Max Lucado? I came across it at camp and it has become one of my favorites to return to. It’s one of those storiesthat keeps opening up with each reading. 

The text is abridged from the original book so it would fit in an 8-minute assembly slot.

~~~

Today, I’d like to share a story with you. It is one of my personal favorites, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. It’s called “You Are Special” and it’s by Max Lucado.

The Wemmicks were small wooden people. Each … was carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village. Every Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. … Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the village.

And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of gray dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people could be seen sticking stars or dots on one another. The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots. The talented ones got stars, too. Some could lift big sticks high above their heads or jump over tall boxes. Still others knew big words or could sing … pretty songs. Everyone gave them stars.

… Others, though, could do little. They got dots.

Punchinello was one of these. He tried to jump high like the others, but he always fell. And when he fell, the others would gather around and give him dots.

Sometimes when he fell, it would scar his wood, so the people would give him more dots. He would try to explain … and say something silly, and the Wemmicks would give him more dots. ... In fact, he had so many gray dots that some people would come up and give him one without reason. …

One day he met a Wemmick who was unlike any he'd ever met. She had no dots or stars. … Her name was Lucia.

It wasn't that people didn't try to give her stickers; it's just that the stickers didn't stick. Some admired Lucia for having no dots, so they would run up and give her a star. But it would fall off. Some would look down on her for having no stars, so they would give her a dot. But it wouldn't stay either.

'That's the way I want to be,' thought Punchinello. … So he asked the stickerless Wemmick how she did it. "It's easy," Lucia replied. "every day I go see Eli the woodcarver."

"Why?" "Why don't you find out for yourself? Go up the hill. He's there."

And with that the Wemmick with no marks turned and skipped away. "But he won't want to see me!" Punchinello cried out. Lucia didn't hear. So Punchinello went home. He sat near a window and watched the wooden people as they scurried around giving each other stars and dots. … And he resolved to go see Eli.

He walked up the narrow path to the top of the hill and stepped into the big shop. His wooden eyes widened at the size of everything. The stool was as tall as he was. He had to stretch on his tiptoes to see the top of the workbench. A hammer was as long as his arm. Punchinello swallowed hard. "I'm not staying here!" and he turned to leave. Then he heard his name.

"Punchinello?" The voice was deep and strong. Punchinello stopped. "Punchinello!..." Punchinello turned slowly and looked at the large bearded craftsman. "You know my name?" the little Wemmick asked.

"Of course I do. I made you." Eli … set him on the bench. … "Looks like you've been given some bad marks." "I didn't mean to, Eli. I really tried hard." "Oh, you don't have to defend yourself to me, child. I don't care what the other Wemmicks think." "You don't?"

No. ... What they think doesn't matter, Punchinello. All that matters is what I think. And I think you are pretty special." Punchinello laughed. "Me, special? Why? I can't walk fast. I can't jump. My paint is peeling. Why do I matter to you?"

Eli looked at Punchinello, put his hands on those small wooden shoulders, and spoke very slowly. "Because you're mine. That's why you matter to me." Punchinello had never had anyone look at him like this--much less his maker. He didn't know what to say.

"Every day I've been hoping you'd come," Eli explained. "I came because I met someone who had no marks." "I know. She told me about you." "Why don't the stickers stay on her?" "Because she has decided that what I think is more important than what they think. The stickers only stick if you let them. … The more you trust my love, the less you care about the stickers." "I'm not sure I understand." "You will, but it will take time. You've got a lot of marks. For now, just come to see me every day and let me remind you how much I care." 

Eli lifted Punchinello off the bench and set him on the ground. "Remember," Eli said as the Wemmick walked out the door. "You are special because I made you. And I don't make mistakes."

Punchinello didn't stop, but in his heart he thought, "I think he really means it." And when he did, a dot fell to the ground.

The End. 

“You Are Special” is a really nice children’s book – it’s comforting and empowering. It’s a reminder that our value and identity come first and foremost from our creator.

I like that. I like the idea of crawling onto a huge woodcarver’s stool so a gentle giant can tell me that the way I am is the way I’m meant to be.

That’s like a word hug.

The drawback of this story is that the analogies leave out a lot of the realities of grown-up, real-world life. I think we’re all the Wemmicks judging one another and Eli the woodcarver is God who loves us and made us each special. I think Lucia is meant to be a Christian.

I think the idea is that her relationship with God/Eli makes it so the stickers don’t stick. She goes to the woodcarver’s workshop regularly and then her life is great – no judgement, no judging – big smiles all around.

But the truth is God does not live in a cabin up the hill from here. God is not a bearded giant whose lap you can sit in. And being Christian does not make your life perfect.

There’s a hole in this story. There’s the same missing piece that was missing two thousand years ago. The part where God squeezes into human flesh and lives among the Wemmicks. That’s what Jesus did. If Jesus was a Wemmick, he would be the only Wemmick ever to have no stickers. Because he’s the only human ever who never forgot where his worth came from.

Jesus taught people how to peel the stickers off. He opened their eyes to the hurt they were causing, and he showed them how they could start to heal. It isn’t easy or permanent, but it is so worth it.

Christian Wemmicks would have gray dot and yellow star stickers like other Wemmicks, but they would help each other pick them off. They would look down sometimes and decide to close their own boxes of stickers. They would remember Jesus and what he’d said about how hurtful the stickers could be.

God may not be in a big workshop in the sky, but that’s because God is here. God came to Earth in Christ and stayed here as the Holy Spirit. So we don’t have to climb a hill or visit an oversized building to be reminded that we are special.

We can tell one another -- with words and actions, and with how we live in this school community every day. We can decide to put the stickers down and even peel them off. We can root our own self-worth in the assurance that the way we are is the way we’re meant to be.

If St Swithun’s can be a place where compassion, and acceptance, and trust, and forgiveness, and all those other words you circled as part of the Christian ethos – if it can become a place where those are reached for and lived out – that’s the kind of place where stickers start to fall off.

And that is pretty darn special.  

~~~

I chose to share it with the girls here as they were gearing up for exam season. Sometimes the high-pressure environment can leave the impression that worth comes from performance or other outward achievements. I find in the Wemmicks a useful reminder that we are valuable because we are made and loved by God. 

What are your thoughts on the story? Do you know any others that carry a similar message? 

[onmywayuk]

Swithun Choir warming up before our final school evensong of the year. It was a Songs of Praise service and the choir was amazing.

[onmywayuk]

Prayer request: Exam week 2

Nearly all the girls are sitting public or school exams this week. 

Please keep them in your prayers as they study, stress out, and strive to reach their goals. 

Here’s a prayer for exams from the school hymn book: 

God of wisdom and understanding, strengthen all who are anxiously facing examinations.  In testing five them all they need to do themselves justice. In preparing give them the diligence to focus on the goal ahead. Keep their perspective balanced that the stress may prove no more than needed to be equal to the task, and in all things may they know Your love for them which is not dependent on performance or grades; through Jesus Christ. Amen.

[onmywayuk]

An open letter to Magdalene Hill Down

I went to Magdalene Hill Down for the first time on my second day at St Swithun’s -- school hadn’t begun, I’d only met a few members of staff, and Winchester was all new to me. 

I went there for a run that became more of a frolick. When I got back to High House, I told a colleague that if I ever go missing they should check Magdalene Hill Down. 

That remains true. 

So this is to the downs: 

We met at the end of summer and I thought that was the best you would ever be -- still blooming in low pinks and purples, refuge of the season’s last butterflies and blackberries. For a while I saved slugs from certain death in the gravel path.  I brought a camera a few times, but it never did you justice. The most glorious days were always the ones when I left it at home anyway. Sometime in November you began to glow yellow and fill with fallen leaves. Sheep and cattle grazed behind fences or along the path. The grass faded and the wind turned cold. In December, I saw the hedges explode in deep red berries.  You sustained through the rain and frost until a carpet of cowslips arose to cover you in pale yellow. Now, thick green turf and birdsong suggest summer.  You’ve been an escape and a constant. I’ve found challenge, and peace, and catharsis with you this year. I’ve tracked months and miles by your landmarks. You’ve helped me write poems, and assemblies, and blog posts that never quite come together when I’m back indoors.  You have reminded me to pray and allowed me to cry.  I thank God for every slug-eaten, scat-covered, uneven inch of you. No wonder the butterflies keep coming back. 

[onmywayuk]

YAGM Newsletter #4 hot off the press.  Let me know if you’d like a higher quality PDF emailed to you directly, and I’ll happily send it along. 

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Wee bit windy today #skye #scotland #godisinthewind (at Trotternish Peninsula)

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Day two of three in the stunning, snowy, and ever-surprising Highlands. Ladies and gents, the Isle of Skye.

I spent the better part of three days on this wee red bus. I listened to the guide’s commentary and sometimes slept or read, but mostly I stared out the window while my mind wandered. 

The scenery looked so much like the Pacific Northwest -- blue hills that rolled into snowy mountains surrounded by evergreen forests. It was gorgeous. 

And I had a moment where I was just so filled with gratitude for Creation and the power of landscape. I felt comforted and at home even though I was driving through Northern Scotland with a dozen strangers. 

There’s this quote that goes “It is not joy that makes us grateful. It is gratitude that makes us joyful.” I knew I liked it before, but soaking up the natural beaut of the Highlands helped me understand why.

[onmywayuk]

Unapologising

I had high hopes for this year’s blogging exploits. I had goals and discipline, and I carried them out for a while. Lately, however, I recognize that things have lagged. I’ve tried to make up for it with random photos and brief anecdotes, but that’s not what I want this blog to be. 

I feel bad about not posting insightful and engaging stories every week. It feels a little like failure. But this morning I decided that’s not what it is. 

It is, in fact, life. I have a life here. I have a job and friends and hobbies. So sometimes blogging drops farther down the priority list than it ought to do, and for that I am sorry. Because I want you to be involved and updated, and I know that blog posts can be a practical way to do that. 

Please know that I have had thought-provoking conversations and eye-opening experiences, even if you haven’t read about them here. Blogging is difficult. Try it sometime if you want. It’s hard to figure out how to convey a whole life. I’m still working out how to process everything and synthesize it into a coherent package. No word yet on how long that might take. 

Mostly, though, know that I am so grateful for your support and love that continue even when I seem unresponsive. I am not silent, just thoughtful. 

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House-wide Easter egg hunt #boardinglife #yagm2015 #tfgvols

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Last month, I had the privilege of taking a private tour of the oldest stone structures in Britain. One of my coworkers at school used to be a volunteer tour guide at Avebury Stone Circle, and she offered to take Nic and I around the sights on her day off. 

In case you, like me, are less-than knowledgeable about neolithic hotspots in England, Avebury is about 1,000 years older and 14 times larger than Stonehenge. It’s the largest stone circle in the world, and the center of a whole neighborhood of artifacts. It’s also the destination of an ancient journey. 

The day began with a 40-minute drive southwest of St Swithuns to rural Wiltshire. Karen told  us to keep an eye out for “shifting landscapes” — which meant the appearance of grassy burial mounds on hilltops. We stopped first at Woodhenge, where we saw the beginning of an ancient avenue. 

Then we went to the Long Barrow — the king of burial mounds. But we couldn’t see it from the road. It took a challenging hike up a muddy hill to reach the ridge where it sat. The barrow was indeed long, and lined with unshaped stones.

We could see Silbury Hill from it. The man-made hill is packed with grain offerings and other organic substances. It’s conical silhouette stands out among the gently rolling landscape around it. 

Our next stop caught us back up with the neolithic avenue. It’s lined with massive stones — some narrow pillars and others wonky diamonds. After a while the land rose and the village of Avebury waited on the other side — right in the middle of a fallen-down stone circle. Before that, though, was a 30-foot ditch all around. Originally, the chalky soil would have ringed the henge with an impressive white face. 

Last of all, we parked across the road from Stonehenge, which was greatly diminished after the awe-inspiring vastness of Avebury. It also seemed too accessible. It was just of the highway with sheep grazing all around and a wire fence. Avebury’s avenue seemed a much more fitting approach. 

The whole experience made me think about what had changed in the last several thousand years and what hadn’t. The circle and the barrow both seemed to be designed and positioned strategically so visitors would come upon these imposing structures suddenly. Maybe those early engineers were sought to impress upon passersby the power and stability of their culture. 

Funny thing is — we still build giant, funny-shaped structures so other people can look at them and be amazed. We still journey great distances to admire those structures. And we still appreciate coming upon them suddenly as if by accident. 

[onmywayuk]

Prayer request

Our school lost a student very suddenly last month and the whole community is still figuring out how to mourn a seemingly healthy 16-year-old girl. We've planned a memorial service that staff and students will contribute to -- sharing stories and songs in memory of Allegra. 

Please pray for her close friends, her coaches and teachers, and her family this week as all those feelings come to the surface again. Many of the girls are encountering grief for the first time and in need of guidance as they navigate that process. Please pray for Rev. Katrina and Bishop David as they officiate services for the school and community, and seek to serve those in need of pastoral support. 

Your love and prayers are so felt at this difficult time. 

[onmywayuk]

It's been a long one between posts but not for lack of news. I did a lot of travelling (and probably not enough picture-taking) during half-term. Here are some snapshots from Oxford, Birmingham, Northumberland, and Paris.