My iPhone thinks it's 8.07am but everyone in my immediate vacinity thinks it's just past 1pm. They're all right. I'm in a coffee shop within Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport in London, England. Surreal, it feels, now.
What's surreal is that I'm really here [after all the planning and preparing]
What's surreal is that it feels like home and feels like the five years I've been away are nothing
What's surreal (on a smaller scale) is that I AM GETTING ALONE TIME [oh, thank You, Lord]
What's surreal is feeling less like the non- and actually like one of many [The UK, particularly England, and most certainly London are at least ten or fifteen years ahead of Canada in integrating different nationalities and complexions]
--I can't describe how nice it is to blend once in a while.
Sigh.
I feel worshipful. God is so good. I could have died on that plane. I may die before I publish this post. But He's so good.
This trip just may be even better than I thought. I'm chuffed and honored to be here for the bride and I do love this land but now that I'm getting time to breathe (and I'll have four more hours alone) I feel I can do it all. Loads of people time and small talk and new faces and whereabouts-in-Canada, no-I-don't know-Michael-from-Vancouver, and an amplification of a heart that's DYING to know where it belongs...
YOGMO, we've coined. YOGMO. You Only Get Married Once.
And if the Lord will help me make this a vacation, if I return to Canada a healthier woman, I'll be ever grateful.
That said, as I headed to the UK/EU Passports queue that was one quarter the length of the International Passports one, I deeply wondered, what is this red passport good for? What unique doors are you opening for me [read: for Kingdom work], Lord? On the plane I had been reading about a missionary who was so deliciously gifted for his work with Mission Aviation Fellowship, that his contributions revolutionised jungle missions. I liked how what simply made sense to him, what he was so naturally drawn to, was how he found his fit-like-a-glove calling. He wrote, regarding his being drawn to the field:
"I pleaded helplessly with my Heavenly Father for the answer that stood between me and the peace that Jesus said should be ours. Now, you've heard about people being spoken to by God. I don't know about the other fellow, but that night I saw things differently . . . BING . . . like that. Just as though a different Kodachrome slide had been tossed onto the screen between my ears. A joy, such as I had never known since the night I accepted Jesus' forgiveness for my sins, seemed to leave me almost weak with gratitude. It was the first time that I had ever really heard that verse: 'Follow me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.' The old life of chasing things that are of a temporal sort seemed absolutely insane."
I want that. I want the BING, the Kodachrome slide, the weakness from gratitude, and the proper view of insanity.
This is the main reason I find vacations so difficult. Who wants to be found sunbathing when the Lord returns??
Alas. I'm praying that rest will work out. Also, YOGMO.
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