Part 1
Funny to think it’s
already been four months since I got home from England. I was living at
Capernwray Hall, which was my sanctuary for six all too quickly passing months.
I vaguely remember when I decided to go there after High School; it was in the
later half of grade twelve and it was a dark time. The pressure of having a
“next step” was greater than ever and though I had several half hearted ideas,
each one made my stomach turn and I just wanted to hide from Reality.
Spiritually and
mentally I was very sick, just worn out and ready to move on from High School
but I had no place to move on to. Old hurts kept coming up, never leaving my
mind and I felt ready to just burst out of my skin and flee what my life had
become. I think it was my dad who finally mentioned Capernwray, a Bible school
in England. And as I thought about it, my stomach didn’t turn and going there
just seemed right. In desperation I sent in my application without any backup
plans in case that failed and a part of me never quite doubted that I would
make it. The acceptance letter filled me with equal amounts of excitement and
horror.
The fact that I was
going to England became a light at the end of the tunnel for me and helped me
make it through the rest of grade twelve. The summer leading up to my departure
was filled with many ups and downs, with dread of leaving what I knew and the
yearning to leave behind a lot of broken relationships. Never once did I
question whether this was the right thing to do, just if I was able to do it
and yet every time I started going down that line of thinking, God popped up
and said “Hey, that’s where I want you to go and I am going to make it happen.
So calm down.”
Part 2
When the plane took
off and we began to go up and away from my home, I was completely struck by one
ridiculous and delightful thought; “I’m fleeing the country and all my
problems, which have haunted me for so long, can’t follow. They just aren’t
allowed.” Suddenly all my problems weren’t in my face and I didn’t have to pay
them any mind. They weren’t nearly as big as I had made them out to be.
I was already
beginning to change, even on that plane ride and despite being fearful about
the trip, I knew that great things were ahead of me and fear wasn’t going to
rule over me. I travelled with three other girls who were also going, which was
a comfort (because I would have gotten so lost otherwise). When the plane
landed and we taxied to the train station, I was feeling good and very brave.
We had to wait at the
train station for a few hours and ended up buying some food at a café. Within
twenty minutes of eating a sandwich, I was more nauseous than I’ve ever been
before without throwing up. My stomach and I have never gotten along and when
it begins to act up, it makes me panic a little and feel utterly helpless.
Desperately I prayed over and over again for God to just calm my stomach
because I couldn’t lie in the London train station forever.
However, after one
desperate bribery prayer (“I swear, God, if you calm my stomach down, I’ll be
so good from now on. PLEASE.”), God said “I promised I’d get you there.” And
that was about it. Needless to say, my over active imagination provided all
sorts of scenarios where I would just die there in the bathroom or that perhaps
I had a rare incurable disease. My hope and joy was demolished in seconds and I
was miserable.
My thoughts jump to
the car ride from the train station to the Hall. I remember even as we drove
down the narrow winding roads and I wanted nothing more than to die that I
looked back at my day and realized I had made it. God had brought me to
England, to this castle that I would come to love as my second home, where all
these fantastic things would happen. The sight of the castle coming into view
in the darkness brought such relief.
Now that I think about it, the fact that my
stomach was so off kept me from being nervous about meeting my roommates. I’ve
never had to share a room in my life and I am one who appreciates her own space
and before the trip, I had been concerned about sharing a room with lots of
other people who I might not get along with. But at ten at night, completely
jet lagged and not having eaten anything in seven hours, all I wanted was to meet
the roommates and then go to sleep.
I think so fondly of
Room 12, Conference Hall. The first night, it was like a cold, inhospitable
hotel room, very nice and clean but very impersonal. Within a week, I think we
made it the most personal room of all. I could not have asked for better
roommates. We were all delightfully introverted, and so we were able to be
extroverts with each other, making getting to know one another really easy. I
was worried about not being able to relate with any of them and yet I found
myself relating with each one in different and awesome ways.
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