To understand and to be understood.
When I think of the UK, visions of clouds, Wellingtons, moors with whipping wind, and other such romantic visions enter my mind. As I went through border control in the Gatwick airport, the kind British woman remarked, "It's a pity the weather won't be nice for you."
With my miniature wellies on my feet, I was ready to finally see the land I fantasized about as a child, when I had hoped to develop a posh accent that would entitle me to adoration and popularity for the rest of my life. As I entered the Oxford-bound bus, however, developing a posh accent was the last of my hopes for my weekend in Oxford.
While living in a foreign country, it's important to have modes by which one can be refreshed, reminded of roots, or somehow stabilized and centered. When I left for university, my new church was this haven; one advantage of faith is that it supersedes borders of states, countries, ethnicities, and languages. Nonetheless, at times, I get quite nostalgic for English-speaking congregations and services. Just a few weeks ago, I had a strong case of this, which led to some internal struggle as I chastised myself for being discontent. On that day, I was encouraged by the reminder that I would soon be traveling to Oxford to visit my old university friend Caroline, who is also a Christian.
I had a four-day weekend due to the holiday of May 8, which was the day in 1945 when the European part of World War II ended. So, naturally, I flew off to Oxford. People asked me there often the purpose of my trip, and I repeated again and again, "I'm not here to see Oxford; I'm here to see Caroline."
Within a couple of hours of my arrival to Oxford, Caroline and I were in a prayer room affiliated with the church she is connected with. A couple hours later we were at a students' night in St Aldates Church. I sang in English. I listened to a short message in English. I discussed the Bible in English. I nearly cried (in English).
I firmly believe that one of human's deepest longings is to understand and to be understood. This is a matter not only of language, but of history, culture, faith, family, emotion, and more. Though each development in the Czech language, I take a small step towards understanding and being understood on a linguistic level, but to be in Oxford among people with the same language, the same faith, and a similar (definitely not the same) culture caused profound thankfulness within me. Moreover, to share that weekend with a girl who had known me in my university years--thus knowing and having shared some of my history--was an even greater gift.
So when I picture my weekend in the UK, I don't picture dreary romantic scenes, but blue skies, bright sunlight, and the united choir's voice echoing through Christ Church.
With my miniature wellies on my feet, I was ready to finally see the land I fantasized about as a child, when I had hoped to develop a posh accent that would entitle me to adoration and popularity for the rest of my life. As I entered the Oxford-bound bus, however, developing a posh accent was the last of my hopes for my weekend in Oxford.
While living in a foreign country, it's important to have modes by which one can be refreshed, reminded of roots, or somehow stabilized and centered. When I left for university, my new church was this haven; one advantage of faith is that it supersedes borders of states, countries, ethnicities, and languages. Nonetheless, at times, I get quite nostalgic for English-speaking congregations and services. Just a few weeks ago, I had a strong case of this, which led to some internal struggle as I chastised myself for being discontent. On that day, I was encouraged by the reminder that I would soon be traveling to Oxford to visit my old university friend Caroline, who is also a Christian.
I had a four-day weekend due to the holiday of May 8, which was the day in 1945 when the European part of World War II ended. So, naturally, I flew off to Oxford. People asked me there often the purpose of my trip, and I repeated again and again, "I'm not here to see Oxford; I'm here to see Caroline."
Within a couple of hours of my arrival to Oxford, Caroline and I were in a prayer room affiliated with the church she is connected with. A couple hours later we were at a students' night in St Aldates Church. I sang in English. I listened to a short message in English. I discussed the Bible in English. I nearly cried (in English).
I firmly believe that one of human's deepest longings is to understand and to be understood. This is a matter not only of language, but of history, culture, faith, family, emotion, and more. Though each development in the Czech language, I take a small step towards understanding and being understood on a linguistic level, but to be in Oxford among people with the same language, the same faith, and a similar (definitely not the same) culture caused profound thankfulness within me. Moreover, to share that weekend with a girl who had known me in my university years--thus knowing and having shared some of my history--was an even greater gift.
So when I picture my weekend in the UK, I don't picture dreary romantic scenes, but blue skies, bright sunlight, and the united choir's voice echoing through Christ Church.
 |
| Thanks, Caroline. |
Love these pictures and resonate with being understood. It can make a huge difference to know someone gets you.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite picture is the last large one before the collage - the street shot with the cobblestones and puddle of water. Gorgeous colors and textures.