Passion and Dreams

PASSION.

Have I lost it?

Did I ever have it?

What is it that drives me? What is it that makes me get up in the morning and go "this is worth it!"?

I no longer know.

I know things I love: Reading, Writing, Music, God, Family, Friends, Socializing, Dancing, Ultimate, Comedy...

But what am I passionate about?

I used to think it was writing until I realized that my year 5's could write circles around me...perhaps I just need to do it again...this time creatively (like I wanted) instead of journalistically (like I've done)...

I used to think it was Children's Rights until I realized that I am no longer involved with organizations that I used to be extremely passionate about (e.g. World Vision). Sure, I'm a teacher and am a strong believer in Children's Rights and believe that each child has a right to clean drinking water, an education, a right to speak freely, and to feel safe. But if this was the driving force of my life (as I used to think it was), wouldn't I be spending much of my free time devoting myself to these organizations?

Special Education? Oh...I get heated up and passionate when I think about this. Unfortunately, I haven't had a chance to work with very many special needs children here in the UK...surely if this was my driving force, I would be more active in looking for jobs or volunteer positions in the industry...

Music? It drives my soul. It makes me free. Music changes my mood. It can make me fall in love. It can make me hate. It can move me to tears. It can give me energy when I thought I had none left... Maybe it is music? Perhaps having no formal training doesn't have to be as big of a stumbling block as I think it is...(too bad I constantly keep losing my voice though :( :( :( )

Travelling? I DO love this! If I could write, travel, and make music for a living, I would. <---- could this be my answer?

I have come to realize that since I moved to London, one of my biggest dreams has come true. I remember being 16 and going to Mrs. Cartwright, our career and college counsellor, and asking her about getting into a university, and her looking at me as if I had just asked about universities on the moon. "You could go," she peered at me doubtfully, "but it's going to cost a lot of money" Read: You can't afford it, honey.

Well, thanks for killing THAT dream, Mrs. Cartwright.

However, it didn't end there. I knew that my parents couldn't afford to let me come to London, but that didn't mean that I couldn't dream. Perhaps one day, I could be a successful journalist and be asked to do some work in London? Perhaps I could join the BBC??? (Oh, the naivety)

Well, the big opportunity finally came last year and now I am living one of my dreams.

But now what?

Where do I go from here?

I almost feel like every experience I've had somehow shaped and prepared me for the moment I came to London. The feeling that this is where I am supposed to be, despite it not being the sunshine and rainbows I thought it would be.

I can't shake the feeling that there is something big that is supposed to happen here...that somehow, in some way, mine, or someone's, or a bunch of people's lives will change in a fantastic and positive way and that it's a direct result of me being in London. That I couldn't have done it in Vancouver. I don't want to waste whatever time I have here being selfish and self-centered...

I want to be a promoter of peace. I want to be a promoter of joy. I want to be a promoter of positivity. I want to be a promoter of love. I want to get up in the morning and know that someone's day was a little bit brighter because I am using my God-given gifts and talents to make the world a happier place.

But then I come full-circle to my original question: What am I passionate about?

And while I'm writing this, I realize that I love people. I love making friends, socializing, and making people smile. I love letting people know they're cared for and that they themselves make a difference. I love seeing the good things about people, and (naively) ignore the fact that there are some bad sides...because we all have them. There's no point in pointing the finger at one person, when I have 3 pointing back at me...
I enjoy encouraging people. Letting them know that I believe in them...

So maybe that's what I am passionate about.
Maybe.

Or perhaps I'll actually get good at guitar, write some songs, and travel the world.



PS: Thanks for reading my highly incoherent rant. Here is a picture as a reward:

Yo, Tanisha. What are you passionate about?

Greater Things Have Yet to Come...

Yesterday evening when I was taking the tube from Victoria station back home after Ultimate practice, there was a woman who got on the tube a station after me. She went straight to the space between the doors of two coaches and tried to open the door (you know, the door you're NOT supposed to open). I watched her fumble around for a little bit (she too weak to open it) and was starting to get worried because after her first attempt failed, she tried once again. If I were to be completely honest, I was concerned about 2 things: The first obviously being that she's going to fall down in between the cracks to her death but the second one was that if that did not happen, she was going to delay everyone because the alarms would go off and the security would come and there would be a hullaballoo for this crazy that wanted to go to the next coach. Nuh, uh. That ain't happenin', girl. I wanna go home!

I took off my earphones and looked at her, about to say, "excuse me, but that's not a good idea." But then I properly looked at her. She had deep red sores all over her body, she was carrying two tubes of cream, was wearing dirty yoga pants and a ratty old sweatshirt. She was mumbling in an incoherent fashion and I could barely hear what she was going on about. "What's wrong with this crazy?" I thought. She wasn't looking at me, but as I strained to hear what she was saying, I realized that her mumblings were directed towards me (or anyone within earshot).

From what I gathered, she was trying to get money for cream ("Hmph! A likely story!" I thought), and  was also pleading people to help out as she was trying to get better from her 'condition' ("Whatever, you druggie, you probably want to feed your meth habit so you can get more of those sores), and so that she could find somewhere to sleep tonight ("Yeah right, there are free shelters you can stay!").

Suddenly she turned around and cast an unfocused eye on me.

"Excuse me, does this train go to Victoria?" she asked.
"No. We passed Victoria already" I told her shortly. "Where are you trying to go?"
"I need to get to Victoria."
"Then you need to get on to the other platform. This train is going the wrong way." I paused as I realized that this was my chance to find out about her. "Where did you get your scars?" I asked.
"The doctor says its an infection." She didn't elaborate.
"What do you need the money for? Ointment?" Please let it be ointment. Please let it be creams. Please let it be something other than towards a drug habit.
"Yes. Whatever you can give to help. I really am trying to get better."

I looked at her again and could see sores and scars in every visible part of her body. Her eyes were downcast and she looked penitent. What must it be like to live like that? And here I was freaking out earlier in the day that I had zits on one side of my face. She looked like she could barely walk...she was hobbling around the coach. Was she pretty once? What happened to her? She couldn't be more than 40.

I reached into my purse and pulled out two fifty pence pieces.

And felt ashamed.

There are three reasons. Firstly, I had 2 more pounds in my bag that I could've given (but I need to pay for electricity!), but I decided to keep it for myself. Secondly, I was giving to her out of a reluctant and a bit of a guilty heart because I did not trust that my money (I worked really hard for that money!) would go towards any creams. Thirdly, that I couldn't do more for her.

And another thought hit me. Earlier on, I was reading a passage from Isaiah 58 that challenged me:

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke?
 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
    and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
 Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
    with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday.
 The Lord will guide you always;
    he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
    and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
    like a spring whose waters never fail.

Here was a woman before me who claimed she was homeless, looked like she had very little, was hurting physically, and was asking for help. Who was I to deny this woman help? Who am I to judge? Instead of judging her, I should have been thinking "what way can I help her?" Practically, it could have been financially, but, there are issues with giving money to someone who might intend to spend it on shelter, food, or other necessities, but may end up spending it one booze, cigarettes, or drugs -- I don't want to be an enabler, I want to be a helper. I want to put a face and a name to the homeless person.

God promises that when I share my food with the hungry, provide the poor wanderer with shelter, satisfy the needs of the oppressed, my (God's) light will shine through. That is something I have been yearning for...for a bright and joyous light to emit out of me, and here God was teaching me how I can achieve this in a very real sense!

But how could I help?

What I really wanted to do was pray for her. As this thought hit my head, she was already down the other end of the train and I considered what I would say to her. I have never really gone up to anyone (let alone a homeless person) and said "would it be okay if I pray for you?" I find that strange, I feel that others would think that I'm strange, she might think I'm just as nuts as I thought she was, it looks strange, you get strange looks, the whole thing is bizarre. And weird.

Yet...

Prayer changes things.

For those of you who do not believe in God, this might be hard for you to understand or believe. There have been moments in my life where I have prayed for specific circumstances, and my prayers and been answered in many glorious and exciting ways. I can't convince you that prayer changes things...but without that hope that comes with prayer, my life would look very different.

So I wanted to pray for this woman, and I as I worked out my approach and looked around again, she was gone!

Ugh! Stupid me! How did I forget:

"do not worry about what to say or how to say it. At that time you will be given what to say" (Matthew 10:19)

Next time, I won't be as scared. What's the worse she can say to me? "No, you crazy!" and then I sit back down, slightly mortified, but shrug it off as I don't get embarrassed too easily. (Stop staring at me, people on the tube, you wish you had the guts to come out of your comfort zone)

Although I this woman has only stepped into my world for a very brief period of time, she has challenged me.  In my previous post, I talked about volunteering for a cause and the homeless were = on my heart for a lot of last year. London is a city where the very wealthy flaunt their money and buy ridiculous things (₤25,000 50-years aged whiskey, anyone? Can I interest you in ₤1600 caviar?). Yet right beside the wealthy, the poor come out in hoards.

Sooooo this whole post has been a roundabout way to say that I am feeling led to help out with the London homeless population. I am not sure what way I can help out --- soup kitchen, shelters, street team, etc --- but I think this is where I want to be. I can't stand walking by people who are in need anymore and wishing that I could do something about it. Recently, someone said to me, "Tanisha, the people on the street --- most of them want to be on the street. I know. I've talked to them." And although I didn't know how to respond to him at that time because I am not a walking Encyclopaedia Brittanica of facts, my heart disagreed at this harsh rejection of the destitute. "Nobody really wants to live on the street," was all I said to him.

Do you really want to be out here?
I want to know your story

When I was walking by Starbucks once, I told the person I was with, "I don't like Starbucks. They're a horrible corporation. They make billions of dollars and give so little...there is more that they could do" (I get very judgemental around Starbucks). He listened to my moaning and complaining about big businesses and then said, "why don't you do something?" to which I had no response other than "yeah...you're right. I should!"

And now that I found something that I want to pour myself into, I guess it's time to get crackin'!

If you know a charity that needs a couple of extra hands or are involved with one, I would love to know. I am not sure which charity I want to volunteer with, but am now convinced I need to.

Never doubt that a small, group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. - Margaret Mead

Dear God,
I don't know this woman's story, I don't know who she is or where she came from. All I know is what I see, and I see that she is lost, lonely, and hurting. She is in physical agony and in spiritual pain. She is financially hurting and needs to be set free from the addictions that bind her. I can't help her physical pain, but You can. I can't free her from addictions, but You can show her the truth. I pray that she was able to find shelter last night, and that she finds someone who looks at her as not a dirty leper, but as another human in need. I pray that she is loved and experiences Your love and grace abundantly. I pray that there is healing in her life in all manners of the word. With relationships, with the spiritual, with the physical, with the emotional. You are a good and gracious father who can do all things, and I pray that you bless this woman today. Let her know that she is your beloved daughter. Pour out blessings into her life instead of the hurt and strife she has grown accustomed to. Renew her spirit, revive her, Lord God!
I pray for all those people involved in working with the homeless. Let them not become disheartened by the things they see, or the cyclical detrimental things some people do to themselves. Let them continue to love on and care for people who need it the most. Give them rest and fill the anew so that they may continue the good work they are doing.
I pray for myself and that you may bless me in this new direction that 2013 is taking me in. I pray that I can find a place to belong and an organization I can devote my time to. I pray that I do not become disheartened by things I may hear and see either. Prepare me and anoint me and lead me to be a light unto others. Let me be someone who can bring a message of hope. Let me be someone who can make a difference in even one life. There is no way I can do it by myself. 

The Year Was 2013...And She Began to Write Again

This year,
I will see beauty in people I meet.

This year,
I will not let your ugly perceptions of others taint my view of them.

This year,
I will judge less; I will listen more.

This year,
I will take your advice with a pinch of salt.
I can think for myself, thank you very much.

This year,
I will stand up for a cause I believe in.

This year,
I will make some noise.

This year,
I will shout from the rooftops.

This year,
I might get arrested for waking up the neighbourhood at 3am because I was too loud.

This year,
I will give more.
I will be less selfish.
I will support you in any way I can.

This year,
I will communicate better.
(It's a work in progress).

This year,
I will thank you for the compliments.
I will forget the insults.

This year,
I will dance.
I will sing.

This year,
I will make mistakes.
I will learn from them.
I will count on you to love me, despite your advice that I didn't take (because I thought I knew better, thank you very much)

This year,
I will laugh more.
I will pray more.
I will love more.

This year, I will be the best me I can be.

The day my life changed forever

In celebration of my brother's birthday, I would like to take you back to the moment when my family's entire history was changed forever. 16 years ago today, it was a bright, sunny, and humid June day and I had just been dismissed from school. Instead of my very pregnant mother picking me up, my stern-looking grandpa stood waiting to take my sister and I home.

I was very confused as to why he was there (I obviously couldn't put 2 and 2 together at that age). "Where is mom?" I asked.

"She's at the hospital. She had the baby," he answered.

I couldn't believe it!! I was overjoyed! "A boy or a girl?" I asked breathlessly. I really wanted a little brother to play with because Dilmeet and Paul (or 'Tom and Jerry' as my family dubbed them) were very close to each other. Even though Dil and I are two years apart, my brother and sister had birthdays almost within a year of each other and could not be separated by any physical means. They were joined at the hips, always opting to play together while leaving me out of the loop. I remember praying for another brother to play with; someone I could be best friends with, just like Tom and Jerry. I even had nicknames for us - Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote.

"Boy," grunted my grandfather. He was never one to elaborate.

A boy!! Oh, boy!!! I couldn't wait to meet him!!! What did he look like? Did he look like me? Would he know I'm his sister? Was my dad there? When could I go to the hospital? Would they come back tonight?

My grandfather just snorted at my questions, not giving me proper answers. But I didn't care, I had a beautiful new baby brother all to myself! Yeah, sure, I would have to share him with my other brother and sister, but we all knew that he was mine really. He was born to be my best friend -- Dil and Paul already had each other. Finally, someone I could go to the park with and dance around with and tease Tom and Jerry with. We would make an amazing team, my new brother and I, always defending each other and pleading our case to my parents.

We were going to be unstoppable.

I didn't get to see him that night.  I really wanted to.

I was told that he wasn't well and that I was not allowed to visit. I couldn't understand. How sick could he be?

The next few weeks are a blur of visits to the Vancouver Children's Hospital where I would have to wash my hands a million times before entering the ICU. When in the ICU, I still could not visit him - I could only watch as the adults were allowed to get closer to my brother. My brother! Why was I not allowed to visit? I could only look into the room through cold glass windows, pointing and waving, while proudly beaming that my beautiful new baby brother was in there.

As weeks slowly turned to months and my mother was released from the hospital, I still could not understand why my brother was not allowed to come home. And I was still too young to visit him inside those glass doors.

Can't I get closer to him, just once?

I promise I won't touch.

6 months. 3 hospitals. Down's Syndrome.

Down's is a genetic condition where there is a third copy of the 21st chromosome. I remember the nurse used to come by every week and gave my family a copy of "My brother has Down's". This is when I first got to learn about the condition and started to understand that Arjun would never be the brother I imagined he would be. He would always live with a mental disability and because he had secondary and tertiary conditions as well, he may not ever be able to speak or ever function independently.

A lot of people with Down's can dress themselves. My brother can't. Many of them can talk. My brother only grunts or smiles or makes noises. My brother walks hunched over and still wears diapers.

I wouldn't change him for the world. Not even if you offered to exchange him for a dozen brother's who would be the Wile E. Coyote in our dynamic duo.

I'm not going to sugar-coat it and say it's been an easy ride. It's actually been very hard for our family. Can you imagine living in a country not your own, giving birth to a boy with disabilities, and not understanding how to raise him? Not understanding how it could happen? Having three needy children already, making minimum wage, working 7-days a week just to pay your bills. Now this?

I remember when I was young, taking Arjun to the park with my sister and he didn't want to come back home. Because he could not communicate his frustration and did not understand why he had to go home, he started pulling my hair and clothes in the middle of the street. My brother may be 9 years younger than me, but he is very strong and when he demands attention, it hurts. My sister and I could not constrain him, and I remember him finally chasing us down the street to our house. He's a hard one to calm down.

You should also never give him pop. Ever.

My sister has had a huge role to play in the raising of Arjun. While I was in university and working, Dilmeet watched Arjun for most of the nights my parents worked. I wish I could be half the woman she is when it comes to loving him. But still, the impact this boy has had on my life is undeniable. I wouldn't have ever done a seminar on Down's if it hadn't been for him. I would never have worked with the special needs kids in our high school program if it hadn't been for him. I would never have had a chance to work 4 years in a community centre working with the most incredible teenagers with mild to moderate disabilities if it hadn't been for Arjun.


I wouldn't have cared. I would never have been exposed to the world of Special Education.

My entire life changed because he was born. The only reason I am a teacher now is because I wanted to get my minor in Developmental and Learning Disabilities so I could work with these incredible children for the rest of my life.

When some people find out that they have a baby with Down's they opt to abort it. They feel as though they would not be able to handle the weight of responsibility of caring for someone who is so needy. I can't even fathom what my life would have been like had my mother been given that opportunity and had chosen to take it.

You may not know anyone with special needs, but I can guarantee you that they can teach us more about life and ourselves than we can teach them. We can only teach practical knowledge, but they teach us how to be innocent, how to laugh, how to love unconditionally. Our world is a better place because people like Arjun have come into it.

So happy 16th birthday, my beautiful, innocent, wonderful brother. I miss you so much. I wish you could understand just how much you mean to me, how much I love you, and how much of my life I owe to you.

The day you took your first breath was the day my life changed forever.

Love,
Your sister,
Tanisha

What Am I Doing Here?

A lot of you have probably been wondering what exactly I do with my time here in London. I have to say, that teaching here (as it is anywhere, I suppose) is hard work. It's especially more difficult when you are not used to the system and are unsure of what is expected from you. Right now I am in a long-term position in a reception class (that's preschool to all you non-British types) and boy, do they learn A LOT!!!! These kids are brilliant! They're reading words like "chasing" at an age when all I thought about was tasting my boogies (Ew. Gross. Boogies!)

Trust me, these kids also think about eating their boogies but they're just a little bit better at reading.

I wash my hands constantly.

But I digress (as always). From Monday to Friday, my morning starts out at 6:45 (I'll push it to 7 if I can) and then I rush to get ready. I usually leave the house around 7:30 and then board an express bus that is about 10 minutes away. My place of work is about an hour away --- and NOT in London. I constantly find myself walking under Hanwell station overpass and looking up to make sure there are no pigeons above me. There is a LOT of pigeon poop on the sidewalk and my greatest fear is that one day, it will land on my head. Trust me, it'll happen. I just dread the day.

"Alright, men. The target has been spotted. She is an East Indian Canadian by the name of Tanisha. Wanted for scaring our brothers by jumping in front of them and laughing. Target must be eliminated. Or pooped on."

On Mondays, I usually chillax at night (and by chillax, I mean spend over 8+ hours at school ensuring I am ready for the coming week and am too tired to do anything else other than come home and sleep). On Tuesdays, I have pastorate in East Putney (that's Bible-study for you non-HTB folk). The interesting thing about Bible studies here is that every few weeks, we have a "social" that occurs in a pub. No joke. I can't make this stuff up. Good times abound. (In context: England has a pub culture. People go to the pub casually as we would go to a restaurant or park to meet and hang out).

Fancy a pint?

I have now officially joined a London Ultimate Team (Whoo!!!!) and our games are on Wednesdays. Boy, do I need to practice, practice, practice. It's so great when you play with people who are 100x better than you. :D Thursdays, I usually go to the gym or just hang out. Friday's and Saturday's are usually a mixture of socializing, planning and gathering resources for the upcoming week, and resting. On Sundays, I play Ultimate with Couch Surfers (yes, you read that right) at Hyde Park (my new stomping grounds!) and then go to an evening service at HTB.

This is what takes up most of my time. I love life here, but I do find being in charge of a class (even if I am co-teaching) exhausting. I think the weight of the responsibility has finally started to sink in and I realize that I am entrusted to the welfare and well-being of other people's precious children --- this is not something to be taken lightly. I find myself constantly thinking about lesson-plans and resources and how to get things done in the limited amount of time that I have before the end of the school-year. I guess that's what every teacher goes through.

I know our supervisors told us that it doesn't become easier until you've had 5 years of solid teaching experience. I just wish there was an easier and less draining route. I guess there's a reason why teachers get so much time off. We'd be burnt out if we didn't.

Oh yes, the title of my post. I called it "What Am I Doing Here?" because I have found myself thinking about British Columbia a lot. I think about the fact that I come from one of the best-rated cities in the world, and I find myself wondering "Wow. WHAT are you looking for in London? WHAT do you want from this place? WHAT are you doing here?" I look at pictures of BC and long for the majestic mountains and the sweet smelling green firs, the sparkling blue ocean and the never-ending hikes. I guess I took all of that for granted. I know that if/when I move back, I will be doing a lot more hiking and camping and travelling within BC than I ever have before. I haven't even begun to explore what the province has to offer.

Who in their right mind would actually walk away from this?

Meanwhile, I have to figure out what I came to London for. I've always wanted to live here... but, there's got to be another reason other than "well, it's always been my dream."

Well, that's my blog for today. I had hoped that I'd get another one up sooner, but it just takes me forever to write one. I am constantly editing and trying to figure out what exactly to write. Anyway here are some blogs that I am going to write about (so something to look forward to): Rehashing my wonderful 2-week trip to Italy; "Kat and Tani's Misadventures in Wales"; and "The Story of My Life" (an anecdote of what I always seem to deal with living here); plus English people VS Vancouver people.

Cheerio, mates!

Truly,
Tanisha

PS: For your viewing pleasure, I have just taken a picture of myself at 11pm at night. I call this pose "peace out, Vancouver."

Peace Out, Vancouver.

PPS: Nathan, I can't believe you're gone. This is depressing. Come back SOOOOON!

Well, since you asked...

Okay, okay. I know it's been over a month since I've written a blog post. But seriously, who is reading this? There is nothing interesting happening to me at the moment. Things here are going incredibly well. A little TOO well. You'd think that someone was orchestrating this...oh wait. There is.

I keep coming back to this subject because it is literally the one thing that keeps me going day in and day out. GOD.

His mercies are so great and His grace is ever-flowing. I wish I could just count the ways He has blessed me in this journey to London. Everything from making it possible for me to afford to come here, to blessing us with a safe home, to providing me with an incredible two roommates, and then, (best of all!) providing me a church home. One where people are so warm and welcoming and that you cannot help but feel God's love radiated from them.

It just makes me think about how I need to be continually coming from a place of giving and love and building relationships with others. Now, more than ever, do I see a need to welcome people --- to let them know that there is MORE to life than just drinking at a pub on a Saturday night and gyrating on the dance floor with strangers. Life has meaning and a purpose and it can be found through Him alone. We love because he first loved us (1 John 4:19).

I don't know...I could write about what a great time I'm having here in London and what a wonderful city it is live in. I could write about what my job is like and what the kids in my classroom are like. I could bore you with rantings about my weekend adventures and my upcoming trips to different European destinations --- but without the bigger picture, it is just...meaningless.

If you want the real story of what my life in London is like, it begins and ends with God. If you wanted the real story of what my life in Vancouver was like, it began and ended with God.

I just love the fact that no matter where I am in the world, He will not forget me or forsake me. I am His daughter and I am loved unconditionally by the Creator of the universe. I just know my life would be so different without Him and I am so glad that I can come to Him with my fears, wants, desires, thanks, and questions.

Last year I learned that He will never leave me. This year, I am discovering it in an entirely new way.

:)

Psalm 30

¹ I will exalt you, LORD,
for you lifted me out of the depths
and did not let my enemies gloat over me.
² LORD my God, I called to you for help,
and you healed me.
³ You, LORD, brought me up from the realm of the dead;
you spared me from going down to the pit.

⁴ Sing the praises of the LORD, you his faithful people;
praise his holy name.
⁵ For his anger lasts only a moment,
but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may stay for the night,
but rejoicing comes in the morning.

⁶ When I felt secure, I said,
“I will never be shaken.”
⁷ LORD, when you favored me,
you made my royal mountain^[c] stand firm;
but when you hid your face,
I was dismayed.

⁸ To you, LORD, I called;
to the Lord I cried for mercy:
⁹ “What is gained if I am silenced,
if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it proclaim your faithfulness?
¹⁰ Hear, LORD, and be merciful to me;
LORD, be my help.”

¹¹ You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
¹² that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
LORD my God, I will praise you forever.

My First Week Off (I could get used to this)

Alrighty, folks. It's time for another blog update. Whooooooo!! I have refrained from doing so because I have not been feeling well over the past few weeks, but also because I was off on my half-term break. Which means...MUSEUMS GALORE!!!

Chelsea has been such a wonderful friend to have around and check out the sights with. She is so considerate and it's great because she seems to enjoy the same exhibits as I do. So it's great going into a museum with someone who appreciates the same things.

The first one on our list was the Natural History Museum. btw. Did I mention that most of the museums here are FREE? The items the British "collected" from their empires are on display for all to see...and you don't even have to pay a cent pence! When you decide that you want to come over and visit me, we shall again embark on these FREE museums. Did I already tell you that they're FREE? FREE! FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

*sigh* such a wonderful word. Music to my ears.

Oh yes, it's a glorious day!

But I digress...

At the Natural History Museum, we got to see dinosaurs, whales, and birds (oh my!). All dead (oh dear!). I have proof:

Stuffed hummingbird, anyone?

Next up was the British Museum. Something I've been wanting to go to for a LONG time! There, we saw all sorts of things including our favourite -- the Mummies! It was great because we got to listen to experts talk about the artefacts and give a more detailed history of the objects. It was really cool to see the Rosetta Stone -- that one piece of rock turned out to be the key in decoding Egyptian hieroglyphics.

What does this gibberish mean?

The Rosetta stone will tell you!

Seeing the preserved mummies was such a neat experience. It was hard to fathom that behind that bullet-proof glass and underneath all those bandages were the skeletal remains of an ancient being.

I vant to suck your blood...oh wait. That's Dracula...

Lastly, we went to the Victoria and Albert museum where we saw old clothing and a bunch of other old things (I was clearly not feeling well today...haha. Must go back to this museum so I can gaze at the splendour of all items Royal and British)

The week was full of amazing experiences. On Monday, Chelsea wasn't feeling well so I went to picadilly circus with Nathan. It was gorgeous! Kind of like the Madison Square Gardens of London (or MSG is the Picadilly of New York?)

Yes, Nathan CAN be in two places at once!

On Tuesday, we were walking along and heard people singing songs we knew outside of a church. We went up to them and it turns out they were a group from YWAM! We joined them in what they were doing (street ministry) and gave out chocolates to people on Valentine Day. I must admit, people here are sooooo suspicious when you try to give them something free (you'd think they'd be used to it by the number of free museums they have). Some people even thought they had to give the chocolate back...I did not know what to make of it. It was such a God day!

Wednesday was our National History Museum day.

Thursday we went to Shakespeare's Globe Theatre and got to see the Tower of London.

Friday we saw the British Museum.

Saturday was our day of rest. SO GOOD!

Sunday we went to HTB and I was not feeling so we didn't go to Hillsong at night. And I've been writing this post ever since.

Now I'm going to go read the Help. SO GOOD!

Ta ta for now!!!!

Sorry for the abrupt ending. I really wanna finish the Help!

Tanisha

PS: Did I mention that I had a delicious waffle? It was scrumptious!