Returning Home

I never thought I’d be writing about my journey home, but here I am. I suppose I’ve become rather accustomed to writing out my thoughts in an effort to make sense of them. Coming home is such an out of body experience. The feeling of stepping off of that plane and walking down the stairs of the Billings airport was like floating on air. It is the strangest thing to run into the arms of those you love most and whom you haven’t seen for so long. It’s like a puzzle that all just fits and no time has passed at all. Yet, at the same time, there’s a gap created by time and distance which you must learn to cross. I am very glad to be home. I love being at work again and I love being with my friends and my family; however, the transition is one that takes getting used to. Everyone warns you of this but honestly, I wasn’t all that nervous about it; I was prepared for change when I came home. I knew my school, my work, and my new house were all going to have an effect, but I didn’t care, I just wanted to be home. Yet, I find myself slipping into that longing of how things were before I left. I am envious of the familiarity and the surety I had. Which is funny considering how scared I was when I left. I’d never been afraid of anything so much, yet here I am, in the very place I feel safest, feeling so much more frightened. It’s funny how God likes to change your plans and expectations. When I say funny I mean frustrating, difficult, stressful, and disappointing. I had wonderful imaginings for my summer back and how it was to look and for my final year at school this fall. What I forgot was all the little adult things that invade into your fantasies and make everything so unpleasantly real. I’d love to go back and escape into the world of beautiful cathedrals, green landscape, ruined castles, and rich history… only I know that I would feel just as frightened there as I would here. Fear isn’t something you can run from, but it is something you can fight. Here’s the thing, life on this earth never goes according to plan. I should rephrase that: life on this earth never goes according to our plan. This world is full of the beautiful things of God and yet it is tainted with the horrible reality of our sin. I was unprepared for how oppressive the fear of the future can be. I wonder about where I will be in five years; will I be teaching the literature I love so well? Will I have found someone to lead me and love me? Will I have started a family and be learning how to raise children of my own? I hope so, but vain hope isn’t enough, I need something stronger. When I left, I asked God to use my experiences and lessons learned in the UK to influence and prepare me for my new adventure at home. That looks differently now than how I expected it to look. I am learning and growing in Christ probably more than if things were going as I had so “perfectly planned”. I am learning that fear of the future is merely showing a weak faith. I am learning what it means to be content and satisfied in Christ alone. I am learning to trust what he has, even though it may not be what I thought I wanted. I am learning that I am not here to be merely happy and I am not here to serve myself; I am here to “glorify God and enjoy him forever”. And the greatest joy I can find is in doing this very thing. I’m not good at it yet, but I have the greatest helper I can get through the Holy Spirit. Plus there is one great advantage to being home; I am surrounded by people and a community that makes it bearable. People who have loved me and encouraged me through my foolish decisions, my worst days, and my weakest moments. The devil likes to make you think you are most alone when the very opposite is true. God give me strength to face the future...if there is success, happiness, and love so be it; if there is failure, pain, and loneliness so be it. Either way I have the love of someone far greater than I; someone who has loved me more than anyone else can or will, and not because of anything I have done. I have the Spirit of the Living God dwelling inside me and; therefore, no matter what else there is in my life, there will be peace, joy, and purpose.

“Go on to think of the love of the Son in its breadth, its length, its depth, its height; go on to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge. Think of Him who came from Courts of Heaven and laid aside the insignia of His eternal glory and was born as a babe, worked as a carpenter, and endured the contradiction of sinners against Himself. Think of Him into whose holy face men spat and on whose brow they pressed a crown of thorns and into whose hands and feet the nails were hammered. There He is on the Cross. What is He doing there? There He dies for us, that you and I might be forgiven and reconciled to God. Think of his love, and as you come to know something about it, you will forget yourself.” –Martyn Lloyd Jones

Father I know that all my life is portioned out for me.

The changes that are sure to come I do not fear to see.

I ask Thee for a single mind intent on pleasing Thee;

I ask Thee for a single mind intent on pleasing Thee.

Anna L. Waring 

Five Months

There’s something about being far from home for a long period of time which stretches the emotions. Some days it hurts. It’s a kind of aching that tugs at you whenever you think of places you miss going and the people you love. Other days you’re fairly indifferent. Not that you stop missing home, just that it doesn’t occur to you as much to do so. The strangest thing is how quickly you can jump from one emotion to the next. You’ll be flying high experiencing something truly incredible, but all it takes is the thought of one person back home with whom you’d long to share that moment with and suddenly it has become somewhat bittersweet. Now that I’m getting closer and closer to my departure date (three days to be exact), I’m starting to worry about missing the UK. I know that I will. I’ll miss Chester itself with the beautiful walls and the River Dee, taking a train on the weekend to somewhere I’ve always dreamed of going, the history, architecture, the people I’ve met, and the friendships I’ve created. I find it amazing that we, as a human race, are so quick to miss what we don’t have and waste what’s in front of us.

I think people discover different things on their journeys abroad. For some, they rarely miss home, the itch to travel is never-ending, and they fall head over heels for some other place in the world. These people may not be meant to go home, or at least, to stay there. They were born for adventure and to start a life in a new place, be it near or far from where they were raised. They thrive in a place very different to that which they grew up in. For others, it may be more of a “Wizard of Oz” experience. No matter how far they go, no matter what they experience or see, there truly is “no place like home”. Anyone who knows me will know that I’ve always identified with the latter. I was surprised, though, by how often people would tell me I would fall in love with England, maybe one of their men, and never come back. Perhaps they were mostly joking, yet that happens to people, doesn’t it? And some truly seemed to think I was destined for this outcome. I do love England. I love my adventure and I love being here, and the thought of returning home is mixed with feelings of anxiety and sadness as much as those of excitement. There’s so much yet to do and see, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to come back, although I desperately hope I do. I came on this journey and I’ve learned, seen, experienced, explored, and discovered a great many things, but now it is time for me to take those things back home and use them on a new adventure. It’s time now to go home. I belong in a city not too small and not too big, I belong where the people have watched me grow and learn since I was a small child, I belong in a community that knows me more than I know myself. I don’t know where the future will take me, and it may be very far away from Billings, Montana, but, at least for now, that is where I belong.

I am so thankful to the friends I’ve made, for the places I’ve gone, and for the memories I have. My time abroad has ended and there is so much more in store for me, but I will never forget these past five months. Now I pray that as I return home I will cherish every moment. I will use whatever it is that I’ve gained on my journey to glorify the one who made it possible, and I pray that someday, He will allow me to come back. For now, it’s time to make the most of my last three days, tying off the ends of my amazing adventure, before I start a new one back home.

Four Months

While being 4,317 miles away from home for the past four months, there have been several phrases that I have found myself repeating and reflecting on…

1.     YOLO:

Although I don’t usually recommend this as a code to live by, I have caught myself saying this, and meaning it, more times than I would like to admit. But, to a degree, it’s the truth. You have to make difficult decisions here, and the only way to justify them is by realizing that this studying abroad experience is a once in a lifetime opportunity to be taken advantage of. I am in this incredible place very far from home and who knows if I’ll ever have the opportunity to come back. With only one life, on this earth anyway, now is my chance. You don’t just drop down a week’s worth of stipend to watch a play, or stand for an hour and a half in the cold to see fireworks, or spend hours in a bus station at one o'clock in the morning because you can do those things every day. You do it because watching that show on that stage has been your dream since you were a child, you stand in the cold for ten minutes of fireworks because you are experiencing an iconic moment with 10,000 other people, you sit miserable in that bus station because you have decided that those few dreary hours is completely worth the moments of joy, discovery, and excitement that has come as a result. Of course, wisdom and decision-making is imperative. Sometimes you have to say no to the place that you have always wanted to go to or an event you wish you could experience, but sometimes you have to quiet that over-analyzing, paranoid part of you, and simply do it…because you only live once.

2.     Time Flies:

As of today I have one month and three days before I return home. It’s unbelievable how quickly it’s approaching. The thought of going home is very bittersweet. I miss home so much and I know I’ll be overwhelmingly glad to be back, yet it’s been such a wonderful time here, and there’s still so much I want to see and do. I can only pray that God will give me the opportunity to come back. Chester has truly become a second home; I hate to say good-bye.

3.     Trust in God:

I know this is very general and certainly does not just apply to these five months here, but it’s a very good thing to remind myself of. I don’t say this to puff myself up: “Oh, look how well I trust God now that I've been pushed outside of my comfort zone.” I only wish that was the case. I still have much to learn and always will; going away has, by no means, changed that. Nevertheless, this is the most important phrase to live by here and elsewhere. If only it was some sort of Sabrina transformation where all of the sudden I was spectacularly spiritually mature, wise, and faithful (the new wardrobe and makeover would be very welcome too), but I have seen God work in me here, and I hope it will be an evidence to his grace when I return. So in Europe and everywhere, trust God.

Four months of my adventure are memories now, but I still have one month and three days to live and experience, and I intend to do just that. 

Three Months

All of my US friends are quite jealous of the three week Easter/spring break I just came back from, but I’m now having to figure out how to get back into the groove of doing school after not having looked at a book or an essay for a couple of weeks straight. That said, the time off gave me the chance to do some exploring.  

I had the opportunity to go to Ireland and stay with some friends over Easter. They were very generous to me and I felt incredibly blessed to be, once again, in a comfortable bed being fed, taken care of, and downright spoiled. My dad will tell you I returned to the Skiles roots, although I think the details of the three Irish brothers, by the name of Skiles, who came over to America, are somewhat in question. It’s so incredible to be able to say I’ve stood at the birthplace of the Titanic and driven by the home of C. S. Lewis. The countryside is just as one imagines in the pictures with the rolling green hills, the pastures of grazing sheep, and the occasional 16^th century ruin just off to the side. I was far too excited to see baby lambs and a badger. My hosts found this odd seeing as I come from a place with bears, wolves, and moose, but I kept saying it was like Mr. Badger from The Wind in the Willows (anyone who is under the impression I’ve grown up is incredibly mistaken). I saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time. The sea in Ireland is more green and grey than what I’ve seen before; it’s absolutely stunning.

I also was given the opportunity to visit Spain over break; something completely unexpected and not a part of the original plan, but far too amazing to pass up. I spent a day in Santiago de Compostela and a day in A Coruña staying with my roommate’s family, and experiencing Spanish hospitality and generosity at its finest, although the most I could do in return was smile and say “gracias” since my Spanish is restricted to that of what one sees in toddler word books.  The countryside was gorgeous; everything was green and full of life. The people were also lively and colorful, and I haven’t quite decided if they ever sleep. One night we decided to go out on the town a bit after dinner which, seeing as they eat around 10pm, had us starting at around midnight (which made getting up at 6am for our flight the next day pretty exciting). We experienced the late night Spanish bar with people playing on Spanish bagpipes, tambourines, and seashells, as well as a number of other bizarre instruments. We went to an after Easter street fair where the stands had many treats to offer including cotton candy, doughnuts, and their speciality, Octopus. I went on a ride that I was really enjoying until it held me upside down for a solid three seconds, and we watched a band play some Spanish pop music for a very exuberant crowd. All in all, exploring the culture first hand, being in the homes and smaller towns, visiting the markets and street fairs, gave me a taste of Spain that I wouldn't have had the opportunity to experience otherwise, and it was a true delight.

But, of course, as all travellers in Spain must do, my group ended up in Barcelona for a few days. My favorite thing about Barcelona is that, in a way, there’s not actually much to see. What I mean by this is that, in so much of my travelling around the UK, I could barely catch my breath as I jumped from famous museum to monument. In Barcelona we merely ate and walked all day long, taking our time doing so. We saw some of the main city sights as well as explored the small, picturesque alleyways, and enjoyed more churros and chocolate than one probably should in a single week.

Of course, nothing was perfect about either of these trips. The castle in Ireland was too full and we couldn't go in, and I was separated from my group and became horribly lost in Spain, but I’m starting to come to the conclusion that at least one thing has to go wrong per place you travel. Those are the things which actually get remembered and shared around the dinner table for a good laugh later on.

I can’t believe I only have a couple more months left here. It’s rather a stressful thought considering the essays I have left to write, and the places I have yet to visit. It’s hard to think I may never be able to come back here, but that only makes me want to enjoy the time I have here more thoroughly. With only a couple months left on my grand adventure, I'm determined to appreciate it as best I can. 

Two Months

       Time is strange. How can it be that I feel like I've been in England forever, yet have only just arrived, at the same time? Well, either way, the calendar says it's been two months so I suppose that is the most reliable source. I've been referring to my little room in John Milton Hall as home for quite a while now, and it's an interesting concept. I still feel a stranger here in my ways. I don't think that feeling will ever quite be gone, I'm not here long enough, but Chester has become familiar, and I am happy here.

       My travels have taken me a little farther. Bath was like walking into a novel with elegant buildings and the ancient Roman Baths offering plenty of entertainment and knowledge.  I also visited London just this past weekend. The magic of it falters slightly when you must learn how to work the tube, and even after you've done that you end up walking over ten miles in one day. But it's worth it to walk around through the squares and markets and gardens. I still have a lot to see when I go back to London later in the spring, but I wonder if anything can beat the pleasure of simply walking around in the beautiful parks which act like a haven in the middle of the bustling city.

       However, I must add one exception to this. There was one pleasure which outdid all the rest on my London visit and that was the opportunity I had to see Les Miserables at the Queen's Theatre. When I was young, I remember putting on shabby rags, rubbing dirt on my face, and holding an old straw broom while singing "Castle On A Cloud" for my church's Variety Show. But I had no idea what the story which my song came from was about. I vaguely remember going to my grandmother's house and watching pieces of one of the Les Mis Anniversary performances over her shoulder. I inquired about the story, and for Christmas that year Mom bought me the Liam Neeson and Geoffrey Rush film. Although leaving much of the story out, this well acted drama left me in tears on my couch (which isn't really much of a feat in general as I cry pretty easily). I've been hooked on this story ever since, devouring all forms of the musical I could get my hands on and being a part of the play itself when Billings Studio Theatre performed it in 2013. To see it on the London stage was just something I knew I'd always do. It was my dream...and it came true. To witness the story on the splendor of a grand stage with the voices of many talented actors was out of this world. I sat there with three disintegrated tissues in my lap, hands pressed hard over my mouth so that my sobs would stay inaudible, and basically just wept between the poor strangers sitting next to me. But I can't help it. This story of God's forgiveness and His redemption should move throughout people (although you don't necessarily have to weep to the embarrassing extent I did). And I believe it has been an influence. I think that these are the themes which have kept this show going for 30 years now, whether people recognize that or not.  As Javier and Valjean both "reach" and "fall," one focuses tirelessly on the strict mechanics of the law, and finds it to be not enough...the "stars" go "black." The other finds himself equally unworthy, equally as incapable, and yet, when he reaches out, he is caught by someone far greater than himself. See what I mean? This story is beyond incredible; a beautiful and heart-wrenching illustration of Christ's work. And I'll never forget the night I was able to see it on stage in London.

        Life is so much bigger than us. It's bigger than my May assessments, it's bigger than the question of what my next year will look like, it's bigger, even, than this great England adventure. I am looking "Somewhere beyond the barricade."

Do you hear the people sing
Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing to the light.

For the wretched of the earth
There is a flame that never dies,
Even the darkest night will end
And the sun will rise.

They will live again in freedom
in the garden of the Lord.
They will walk behind the plough-share,
They will put away the sword.
The chain will be broken
And all men will have their reward.

Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes!

One Month

One month ago, I landed in Chester, England, to study for one semester abroad. I now had to learn how to live on my own, adjust to a new school and community, as well as a different culture in a different country. That learning is still in progress, but I’ve come to understand and experience things here, and it’s only the beginning of what I’ll discover on my Europe adventure.

I’ve gotten to see a little bit, but I still have yet to do most of the traveling I hope to do over my time here. The town of Chester itself is incredibly beautiful. A well persevered town, picturesque for the American traveler, complete with cobblestones and cathedrals. I’ve seen old castles, industrial museums, and gorgeous libraries.

I get asked a lot, very enthusiastically, “Is it so exciting? What are you doing? Is it really different?” People seem disappointed by my fairly complacent answers. It’s not that it isn’t incredible, it is. The first days walking around the town I would notice myself grinning like a fool. Walking on walls that are thousands of years old is so unimaginable and unlike anything you can experience in America. And it is different. Not horribly, but just enough to confuse you and make you look like the typical ignorant foreigner fairly regularly. Like when they ask you if “you alright?” and you have a moment of self-examination wondering if you have something on your face, or you simply look depressed or exhausted, only to realize that this is their version of the general, “how are you?” and simply stuttering over an awkward, delayed, “um..yeah, I’m, I’m fine. Um…you alright?”  Or like when walking down the sidewalk you assume you should veer to the left, this being the side of the road they drive on and all, but in actuality it’s more of a chaotic fumbling around and game of survival of the fittest when passing a large group of people on an extremely small sidewalk. Still, in terms of daily life, it's the same as anywhere else. They go to school, they go to work (often by public transportation though and figuring that out is enough to give me a panic attack still) then they go to the pub...always.  But life can feel monotonous here as anywhere, despite the ancient buildings and charming accents we Americans find so new and exciting.

Living like an adult is all very mindboggling and makes me absolutely appreciate still living with my parents. I definitely miss coming home to my mom’s cooking, and my bed which is more cushion-like versus the more rock-like mattress in my dorm room. Budgeting, laundry, and grocery shopping are not my new favorite activities, especially when dealing with how best to avoid exchange fees, and walking home with three recyclable tote bags of groceries (my calves and arms better be sculpted by the end of this trip). My mom often gets ridiculous texts about cooking certain dishes or washing certain items.

School here can be frustratingly different. I long to be doing something, but homework, in our sense of the word, is pretty much nonexistent, and instead I look forward to writing seven essays all due in May.  I also think they expect me to be in the library reading the never-ending "suggested" reading list at the end of our handbooks. So, one must learn to read and research and, in my case, begin writing essays after only attending a few lectures.

There is a lot of free time, though, and boredom leads to homesickness I find. I tend to miss the smallest things; seeing mountains in the distance, being able to jump in my car when I want to go somewhere, a long hug from a friend, watching shows with my mom (usually BBC), and hearing my dad thump around downstairs in the mornings…I almost miss my little sister leaving her bits of crafts and creations all over the house. I miss iced coffee, a really good burger, and a fully stocked kitchen. I’ve noticed recently I miss walking into a place and not feeling like the stranger or the foreigner. I long to feel familiar. Perhaps, in time, Chester will become that to an extent.

So I do miss home, and learning how to live on my own can be disheartening, figuring out the academic differences frustrating, and trip planning stressful. I have become quite dependent on prayer here. Not necessarily better at it, but in some way, God has ripped me from all that I know so that I must learn to look to him instead of other comforts. I fret about a good many things (I always have), but I no longer have my friends and family to run to in the same way. My backup is gone, and for that I am quite thankful. When I’m confused with classes, or become overwhelmed with my new surroundings, when I only have £40 of my meal stipend left for two weeks, or I’m struggling with not being able to communicate with loved ones as often as I’d like, when I am out of my depths and feeling quite alone, that’s when I realize I’m here to, more than anything, grow in relationship with my Father. To, by his grace, depend upon him.

Not for one second have I regretted my decision to come here. It’s so hard to believe sometimes that I am actually here in England. This is what I’ve dreamed about since before I can remember. Before I left I always got asked what gave me the idea to come here. I felt rather awkward trying to answer. I never had some sort of epiphany that guided me to take a semester abroad. I thought it was something everyone wanted to do; to experience another culture, to see incredible places and learn their history. Wasn’t that on everyone’s bucket list? These are things I’m doing right now, and it’s an awesome experience. I pray that I will learn and change, that I will see places rich in history and beauty, and learn more about researching and literature from a different perspective. I pray that through this experience I will become wiser, more cultured, more confident, and more understanding of how to live on my own in practical ways. But more than anything that I would become completely and utterly dependent on my Heavenly Father who gave me this opportunity. That I would learn how to surrender all of my fears and all of my joys. That I would become a person of prayer more than I’ve ever been before.
One month down. Five to go...