eight years out of england.
September 26 was the eight year anniversary of my spiritual year in England, so to commemorate the experience, I thought I’d share some thoughts I wrote about it a few years back, in the height of my blogging days.
Photo: Starlizz Photography
It had been a long, stressful, emotional, exhausting day of cars, and shuttles, and airplanes, and then another airplane, and then a train. And then another shuttle. I'd packed and repacked my two suitcases that morning. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time, regretting that extra two inches I let her cut off. Eighteen and jet-lagged out of my mind, I couldn't keep my eyes open for anything. Terrified that I would miss the update on my delayed connection, I remember sitting in the empty Heathrow terminal and setting my pink flip phone's alarm to go off every ten minutes to allow me some sleep but also ensure that I'd wake up to check my next flight's status and location. After I landed in Manchester, in a daze, I found my way to my luggage and then outside to the train station. It was all very straightforward, but I still couldn't believe I'd really made it. The closer I got, the more surreal it became. And the more wonderful. Everything was so green, so beautiful. The air was different, the sky was bigger. Romantic. The electric green moss that grew everywhere, on everything, was so vibrant against the stone architecture. I felt like Dorothy. The shuttle ride was pure ecstasy. Driving on the other side of the thin, windy roads felt dangerous and exciting. I listened to the other students' chatter with sincere interest and premature love. So many stories and journeys and experiences. My luggage was unloaded from the shuttle and all I could do was gape. Like the crazy that I am, I never looked at any pictures or videos of my new home before arriving, so everything was a surprise. That's where I'm living. There. Right there. I'm living in a castle. I'm living in a castle. I'm living in a castle in England. From there, the years have made the next few hours blurry. I can't remember how I found Room 9 in the old Conference Hall, or how chose my bed. I can't remember who of my seven roommates was in the room when I got there. I heard about a tour of the grounds and rushed over to join. I met many new faces, and felt so at home, so warm. More than anything I'd experienced in my life, I knew I belonged there. Like the big family we had not yet become, all one hundred and eighty of us crammed into the massive living room of the castle that night. Our new principal spoke to us, and again, I felt so sure of I where I was. I loved everything about the room, the building. I loved the carpeting and the couches, and the big storybook windows. I felt safe. To my surprise, I slept through the night that night. I wasn't homesick or scared. I hugged my fluffy, new duvet, and swore to absorb all that God had to teach me that year. Capernwray is still the weirdest, best word that I know. It still makes my heart stop when I hear someone mention it. Those formative nine months will always be dear to my heart. It's incredible to me that so much time has passed. Capernwray allowed me the chance to test my own integrity, to let me see if I was the same person a thousands miles away in another country that I was at home. And to see if God really was the same, too. It broadened my perspective about the world and how my relationship with it can and should be. I also think it may have been God's way of quenching my thirst for Christian community that I cried out for in high school, affirming to me that I truly wasn't the only one in the world who cared. There were other people my age, from all over this broken planet, who actually loved Jesus too. It was enough for me to know that, no matter where life would lead me from there, I wasn't alone. The powerful sting of those goodbyes was like nothing I've experienced, but I think that guarantees our reunion one day will be even more amazing. Even if we aren't together anymore, I can remember the names and faces of the people who, for nine months straight, inspired me to continue to live differently and that I have it in me to keep going. Capernwray is where I decided to attend Biola, and study screenwriting, despite all of my fears and apprehensions about a career rooted in the immoral abyss of Hollywood. I made indescribably intimate friendships with souls that I'm still honored to know. Here's to five more years of friendship and blessing.
