The year was 2007. The Hubs and I were not yet ‘the Hubs and I.’ We lived in Edinburgh, Scotland and were preparing for our June wedding in North Carolina. He still came-a-calling to hang out with me in a cute little place off Leith Walk I shared with some lovely girlfriends, the last place that would be “mine” and not “ours.”

For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favour and honour;

No good thing does He withhold from those whose walk is blameless. {Ps. 84:11}

In the months between our January engagement and our June wedding, we decided to look for a flat to buy. {Translation: apartment. Just in case.} We’d both been renting in different parts of the city, but liked the idea of settling down, “finding a place of our own.” Hopefully somewhere central so we could have lots of friends over. The housing market was on the up and up — it seemed like a great investment.

Here’s some context.

Quite different from how the property markets work in the US and South Africa, Scotland works on an “offers over” system. This means people might list their two bedroom Edinburgh flat for “offers over £99,000,” and then people will make their best guess at what they’re willing to pay over that amount. You don’t know what anyone else is bidding, so you’re kind of making a blind guess as to what you think other interested buyers might bid. But you’re hoping not to out-bid the others by £10,000 because that would just be a waste, now wouldn’t it?

When property was moving hot and fast in the spring of ’07, £99,000 flats were going for £127,000 and then some.

Which seemed ridonkulous.

We didn’t enter the process lightly — with much prayer and much thought we were cautiously taking steps in this direction, trusting the Lord would light up the path for us. I was full of hope we could buy a place to stop paying someone else’s mortgage and start paying our own.

As HH-to-be and I viewed flat after flat after flat, we became very aware of a couple of things:

1. People were making ridiculous offers. We could not believe how much one bedroom flats were going for in parts of town that I would say could “go either way.” “Hello Hooligans, on the way to the football (US readers: soccer) stadium at the bottom of Easter Road!”

2. We could not make ridiculous offers. We just weren’t going to. We weren’t willing to risk going upside down on a flat that we couldn’t afford. We were going to make a reasonable choice, and stay well inside our budget. And we weren’t going to let even that one awesome flat we viewed in this crazy building that I think was first built as a printing press and the converted change our minds.

Although I personally could’ve been swayed.

3. The old saying that what goes up must come down is still true.

Okay that was three things.

Anyway, we were in the middle of a viewing — I think a second viewing — of a place we were particularly fond of when the penny dropped. Maybe it was a half-penny. Or two pence.

HH-to-be was chatting with the current owner, I was marveling at the classic choice of red and white baroque-patterned wallpaper and how the afternoon sun on an Edinburgh spring day cast a delicate luster over the hardwood floors through a nearby skylight.

It was the first time we were really starting to think … this could be it, praying the Lord would make it clear and hoping hoping hoping … and the owner’s phone rang. With an offer. Easily a couple thousand pounds over what we were willing to pay.

And that was that.

As we walked to the car, HH-to-be spoke some words of wisdom: I think the Lord has made it clear for us. And from that day forward, we looked for places to rent. Well actually we looked for places to let, because that’s what you say when you’re looking for a place in the UK.

And “To Let” signs sit outside buildings all over the city and riding past on the bus I always wished I could get out and spray paint an ‘i’ in the middle. Just for fun.

Once or twice.

We found the first place we called “our place” not long before I was off to the US to prepare for our wedding. We returned as hubs and wife and moved into “our place” where we fed lots of friends from a tiny kitchen (you could literally stand in one spot and reach everything) and watched episodes of Lost from iTunes on my Macbook, propped on an ottoman in front of our tiny couch.

We were there three months before we headed to the States to raise support for HH to be a full time staff member at our church.

We were there three months (in the States) when we discovered the Bear was on his way into the world. Surprise and Merry Christmas, the Lord seemed to say.

We returned from our time in the States, me six months pregnant, and we rented a flat that was everything we hoped for and then some.

And the Bear was perhaps just three months old when we started to realize living life spread across three continents wasn’t going to work. For our family.

The family we didn’t even know was coming when it was spring in Edinburgh and we were looking for flats.

Before his first birthday, two months after our first anniversary, we were on our way to South Africa, with a stop in the States thrown in for good measure.

It was only two brief years after we would’ve bought a lovely flat in Edinburgh.

A new season and a new country were ahead of us.

And I’m not sure how that would’ve been possible — I am very certain it would’ve been messy — if we were servicing a mortgage on a flat in Edinburgh. In a market in a slump. And trying to raise support for life and ministry in South Africa, thousands of miles away.

Sometimes we don’t know what’s good for us. Sometimes unanswered prayer is the greatest gift we can receive.

I look back, thankful, we listened to that still small voice and didn’t push in a direction we weren’t supposed to go.

The Sermon in a Nutshell: Remember God’s goodness today. Remember that He sees the end from the beginning. Even when we’re in the middle, and all we see is red and white wallpaper and hardwood floors.

xCC

Back in the days when we called the sweet streets of Edinburgh home, we had this sweet little hand-me-down toy the Bear loved to bounce in. It played happy music and lit up and provided us with a place to put our seven-month-old bundle of squirm so that we could enjoy our breakfast in peace.

Except for one morning when the neighbor from downstairs came up to ask if we were bouncing a ball or something because of the noise. Clever Clogs Hero Hubs promptly invited her in to show her the Bear bouncing in his toy, and she immediately remarked {in a sweet North of England accent, no less} “Well it’s not so bad now that I’ve seen you!”

{Doesn’t the Bear look funny in this picture? Like his head is square or something? I don’t really think it looks like him, but he’s Seven Months and Happy! SpoRadically uSing caPitaLs is fun sOmeTimes.}

When we packed our lives into boxes headed for the southern shores of SA, we passed along the delightful toy (that had been passed along to us) to our dear friends Rob and Alice, who were expecting at the time.

So a wave of old memories crashed on my heart shore when we were staying with our precious friends last month and we plopped a new baby boy down in that same toy.

{Our wee Tank — ten days shy of seven months! His head seems a little less square. Well I’ll be.}

Be still my heart! So full of lovely memories! Like the time the Hubs accidentally broke that microphone because it went Bah-ba-doo-wah! over and over and over again.

While I was hunting down that old photo of the Bear, I came across this one. Which does absolutely make me melt. I think he might have a future as a boy band member. It reminded me of that big lovely kitchen … LOVED it!

{Bear-B-Que Sauce, 8 Months and some change}

And that reminds me of the sweet laundry shots HH grabbed of the Tank just a few days ago!

Seven Monthsies!

Almost eight!

We used fresh laundry for these ones, though. ‘Course.

And that sweetness reminded me of these pictures of the Bear in a Ceres juice box. Which is confusing because we took this in Scotland but Ceres juice comes from the beautiful Ceres valley in South Africa, where they grow lots of fruit. But it was cheaper to buy in the UK (at Costco) than in SA, so we drank more of this wonderful South African juice in Scotland than we did in South Africa.

Globalization, dju confuzzle me suntines.

Six Months’ Worth of Cheeksies!

These captured moments from every day life seemed like just another moment at the time. Another moment trying to find somewhere to put the baby so that I could get something done. Seeing them now, they are precious reminders to me from seasons that feel a million miles away.

I’m so glad we paused to grab the camera, to see, to take off our shoes. There is God-breathed beauty, even in the hum-drum monotony you might feel makes up your life right now.

We just have to {re-}learn how to see.

xCC

Our plane touched down nearly a month ago and it is still strange and wonderful and topsy-turvy and weird, all wrapped into one. And that’s somehow a good thing. Like a salad with strong-flavoured greens, sliced strawberries, toasted egg noodles and bacon. Who knows why, it all gets together and it’s good. Splash some olive oil and white wine vinegar on top and invite me over, please. Partay in the mizouth.

Life has had a few new things to teach me in this fortnight and a half. If you’re organizational by nature, you might qualify some lessons as more important than others, but I don’t think it’s necessary to create categories and put these thoughts in boxes. They all have the potential to lead to positive growth, and for that reason, they’re valuable.

Here are a few highlights from the schoolbook of re-entry:

1. Country music makes me sad. There, I said it. I didn’t realize it until now. I suppose I didn’t listen to it a lot before now, but country has morphed from what it was when I was a kid to almost-rock without some of the pretentiousness and cool, and I like that about it. But it makes me sad. I almost wept as some fella crooned about how I was gonna miss this season when it’s gone, staring at the boys in the backseat, the Bear making his baby brother giggle while we waited for the doors to open at preschool. Seems the sad stuff makes me sad, and the fun and happy stuff makes me sad because it’s usually about misbehaving and I just think all that misbehaving can only lead to bad consequences.
   
2. You can’t trust Walmart to have the lowest prices. I depended on Pick n Pay 100% back in SA for all my grocery needs {except diapers} because we got such sweet discounts there through our health insurance. But now I have to shop around. Ouch. #Walmartfail
   
3. People assess themselves as lovable or unlovable based on the way they are treated by others. And people are largely able or unable to receive the love of God based on how lovable or unlovable they feel, how deserving or undeserving they might assess themselves to be. So it makes sense on a whole ‘nother level that Jesus consistently instructed us to love one another. Love our neighbour. Love our enemies. Love, love love. Because the ability of many folks to receive God’s love, and the sacrifice of Jesus, can largely depend on their ability to believe that God could be loving, and if He is, He could love them.
   
4. The Pirates are not looking to deliver on a promising season this year. Translation: my beloved alma mater’s football team is Trifling. Yep, that’s a capital T. However, they are still worthy of love and I hope they know that.
   
   
   {that’s the Bear, but it looks like the Tank, hey?}
   
5. I am no longer confident of my ability to use of the English language. I have three and a half sets of English swirling around in my brain. {The half set being reserved for Afrikaans speakers of English in South Africa, who usually have slightly different word choices than the native English speakers. Or maybe it’s for people from Glasgow.} If requested to get a band-aid or a plaster for the Bear’s eina or boo-boo or owie, I might say I’m coming soon, in a wee while, or just now, after I go to the loo or toilet or restroom to fetch it. I struggle to decide which word to use to communicate something with my own mother. What?? I have now decided whichever word comes first is the one that’s coming out of my mouth so if you haven’t a clue what I’m blethering about, nae bother, just ask.

I rather think one especially lovely thing about life is that we get to keep learning. And this season sure has me off to a good start.

xCC

It was seven years ago this week, {October 10th to be exact} the day I’ve held in my heart as the day that I knew I’d heard the Lord irrevocably say “Go.” I was waiting for an answer to a prayer I’d been praying for a long time, and it came in a slightly unexpected way.

Back in 2004, among those long days of summer where darkness barely has a moment to lay across the land, I took a brief trip to Scotland with a team of people that were preparing to plant a church there. I wasn’t planning to help plant a church in Scotland. I’d just been invited by a darling friend who said she’d been praying about the trip and felt the Lord direct her to invite me. I prayed and kind of thought, “well, why not?”

For a week, we walked the streets of Edinburgh, visited Linlithgow, Stirling and the historic fields at Bannockburn (think the major battle in Braveheart) and scouted out the land. We spoke to college students and prayed a lot. I met a friend named Julie who’d come up from London to join the team, and who instantly become very dear to my heart. {She was later a bridesmaid at my wedding.} I decided at the end of the trip to change my flight to spend a couple more days in London with Julie before heading home.

{My first look over Edinburgh from Arthur’s Seat, June 2004}

And then a strange thing happened. The plane took off as we left Edinburgh, London-bound, and I found myself crying. And not like glistening tears, more like borderline ugly cry/hide my face from the passengers sitting beside me as I try to tell the flight attendant, Sure, I’d like some breakfast. Not understanding the meaning of it, I began to pray.

Those prayers over the next few days in London and back in NC eventually resulted in a very specific one, from my heart, but I think originating first in the Lord’s. Remembering him considering getting out of the boat to walk to Jesus, I echoed the words of Peter in a simple prayer:

Lord, if it’s You, bid me come.

{Indirection which may lead to direction: In the story I’m referencing from Matthew 14, the disciples are in a boat, late at night, on a stormy sea, when Jesus comes walking to them on the water. Peter sees Jesus and asks, “Lord, if it’s You, bid me come to You on the water.” Jesus says, “Come” and Peter gets out of the boat and walks on the water to Him. He gets nervous and starts sinking, but that’s a story for another day.}

For four months, alongside the other people I was praying for and things I was praying about, my heart’s cry repeated that simple chorus: Lord, if it’s You, bid me come.

My stirring was so strongly leaning towards certainty that the Lord’s will was for me to return to Scotland, I spoke with a pastor at my church (the church In Greenville where HH and I are now based, coming full circle) and we agreed doing an internship at a different church up in the Triangle (the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel-Hill area of North Carolina) would be a good idea in preparation, since many folks moving to Scotland would be leaving from that church.

Less than two months later, I’d moved home, taken up a job at a pawn shop (because I had to pay bills), and begun an internship at King’s Park International Church. I wasn’t confident that I’d heard the Lord’s call yet, but I kind of felt like the phone was already ringing.

Then one weekend I was back in Greenville for a church service where another dear friend of mine was being prayed over because she was moving to work for a church in New York. There was a guest speaker that Sunday, and his sermon quickly got my attention.

The title of the sermon was “Living on the Water” and some of the key points I made note of that day were:

• God is calling us today to leave our boats and live on the water with Him. Boats are manmade and though you put your trust, beliefs and traditions in them, God knows how to sink those boats.
• There is a cost involved in stepping away from our own boat.

The speaker went on to talk about the different types of boats we build, and he spoke specifically about the importance of believing and not doubting, by saying, “Unbelief makes you double-minded. This gets in you and you question everything. ‘I want to be sincere… I want to be sure…’ God wants you to come out of the boat full of what-ifs and trust Him. You will not be the first person God never met at their faith.“

I think I added these thoughts in my notes: It was dark and Peter didn’t see a brilliant light and certainty and clearness. Jesus told Him to step out By Faith, Not by Sight.

Do you ever get the feeling that a speaker, though talking to a large crowd, was somehow backstage reading your mail before he got up to speak? There I was.

I got back home to Raleigh that evening and with honest and sincere faith, prayed (among other things) “Lord, forgive me for sitting in the double-minded boat of unbelief. I’ve been afraid to apply Your Word to my life and trust that I hear from You. Instead of beginning to step out and trust You, I’ve made up excuses, opted for easier routes, and even listened to the enemy whispering “Did God really say…”

I also admitted in prayer, “I’ve been afraid to think that the desires of my heart (like going to Scotland) could or would be fulfilled, and I felt like I didn’t deserve it and I wasn’t in the right place.”

{Have you ever been there?}

That night, I was finally certain of the Lord’s calling. Certain He had a big plan, and certain it wouldn’t happen if I didn’t get out of the boat.

I couldn’t sum up the lessons, the adventures, the joy, and even the challenges that have brought me from that day to this one in a hundred nutshell sermons. But if there’s one thing I can communicate about it all right here and now, it’s my certainty that walking on water will only happen if we’re willing to get out of the boat.

xCC

We’re planning on trolling around London today. I hope. And having spent a decent amount of time in this uniquely fascinating city, and being a little on the tired side from the adventures thus far, my only goal is a simple one. Besides maybe getting fish and chips. Hero Hubs obliging, I’d like to get a photo right here:

{That’s me and Big Ben, 2004… living with a bad hair decision}

but I want a picture like this:

{with the Bear, 2009, better hair choices}

But I’d like a photo like the Eiffel Tower one in front of Big Ben with the Tank.

What do you think? I’m hoping my chances are good. And my hair looks better than in did in ’04, so that’s a start.

My dear friend Pam wrote a few special words about her return to the UK — we lived together for a bit here in Scotland, she’s most recently been in the States, but she’s from Zimbabwe. And honestly, I couldn’t have said it better myself — and I mean that with the most sincerity possible, try as I might for as long as I can, I can not weave words as delightfully and whimsically as she does.

So please take a few moments to enjoy her words about this magical place I also wish I had a “secondhome” word for. I think it’ll give you a laugh. If you speak English and have a heartbeat. And mayhaps you’ll understand my sentiments toward this place a little better at the same time.

And can you believe it — TOMORROW is the day — our big long flight from Heathrow to the tall trees and sunny skies of the Carolinas beckons. A reunion, an introduction, and much merriment will ensue. It’s simultaneously six long years and nine long months in the making. And I’ll keep ya posted.

xCC

Sorry for the delayed update from the road. By and by an explanation will be produced for this great pause in communication. Really, it all started not long after we last spoke on Thursday. Friday we got ourselves together to take the train up to Scotland. Besides consolidating ourselves to one suitcase for the week away, we also needed to pick up diapers and a quick lunch before the departure.

We found the diapers {but I should say nappies since we’re in the UK} and some snacks for the road {hello, pan au chocolat, I missed you} and the Hubs and I grabbed some chips {but I should say crisps since we’re in the UK}, and what have since been dubbed the chicken wraps of death. We won’t mention the name of the supermarket, but it starts with S and ends with ainsburys.

And all seemed right with the world.

After a quick lunch we were headed to the train to the tube to Kings Cross Station, to take the train up to Scotland.

And all seemed right with the world.

But as we made our way up the largest of the British Isles, as the light began to scatter across the green sheepy fields in the way that it only does in Scotland, and as the long hours of a Scottish summer day were drawing to a close, and we were nearing that sweet train station destination where I first arrived to settle in Edinburgh six years ago, suddenly

all seemed not right with the world.

And by the time the last train journey of the day brought us to our dear friends and hosts (life looked like this when we last were together)

they were offering us dinner and we were asking where the loo was.

And through the night, we got exceptionally well acquainted with the bathroom of their new home.

Hero Hubs seemed to experience a slightly more expedient recovery, and we managed together to muster the strength to make it to the wedding ceremony the next day.

There was a slight drizzle about as we made our way to the absolutely breathtaking church near Linlithgow Palace (gorgeous!) where the beautiful moment took place. I am SO glad I cowgirled up to be there. The bride looked beautiful and so joyful, the groom dashing and kilt-bedecked… love and joy in abundance. The music and readings were very well-chosen, and it was all just so special.

{The father of the bride and mother of the groom, and then father of the groom and mother of the bride, skipping down the aisle after the blessed event… awesome and priceless highlight.}

Very very very sadly, I had cowgirled up for as long as I could, and the Hubs, too, was pale and weathered, and we weren’t able to continue in the fantastical merriment. Meaning: we couldn’t enjoy the reception or the ceilidh, and that was a BIG bummer. My heart is still sore about it.

But the pledging of two loves to one another, in love and faith before God, that really is the highlight of the day (besides folk skipping down the aisle) and I am ever-so glad we were privileged witnesses of that special event.

{Congratulations, Grace and Gordon! We were so happy to witness you two tying the knot!}

In summation, the S to the ainsburys chicken wraps of death rained on the wedding day for us a little, and we were still a little worse for wear on Sunday, but we enjoyed being at church {a story for another day} and catching up with friends throughout the afternoon and evening, and were afterwards anxious to return to the beds from whence we’d risen.

And now to set about the business of enjoying the rest of our time in Bonnie (rainy) Scotland…

xCC

Six years ago today I boarded a plane in Atlanta with my big brother. Since we’d booked our tickets separately, we weren’t seated together — he was in the row in front of me in a bulkhead seat. I decided to ask the interesting character of a lady beside me if she would be willing to switch seats with my brother so that we could sit together. With the extra leg room and a little bit more space, it seemed like a no-brainer.

She turned to me, and with such poise and calm I wouldn’t have been more surprised if her teeth had fallen out in my lap, she answered:

“Absolutely not.”

Besides the surprising answer, the manner in which she responded left me so aghast I just quietly turned to stare at the back of the seat in front of me. I sat still and quiet long enough that I think remorse got the better of her, and she eventually turned to me again and said,

“Well you can at least read the paper or something.”

Ten or fifteen extremely uncomfortable minutes later, the guy sitting in front of her (beside my brother) realised his TV was broken and ended up being bumped up to business class. I then had the pleasure of moving up a row, just in time to avoid the interesting lady’s evening routine, which included changing to sleeping attire in the restroom and carefully putting her waist-length hair in a humongous bun directly on top of her head.

That flight was bound for London, and a day later my brother and I were on a train to Edinburgh, where another surprise awaited us. After a warm morning and a good breakfast in London, we moseyed on over to King’s Cross train station, and I was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and flip-flops.

We arrived in Edinburgh that afternoon, some friends of mine doing us a great favour by bringing the majority of the luggage up with them by car that evening. My landlord, David, a wonderful gent who’d soon become a great friend, met us at the train station.

{A view from the School of Divinity in Edinburgh}

As we waited and looked for David at the train station, I realised all my warm clothes were in those suitcases coming up from London, and though it was the 29th of July, I was convinced that the rain falling outside was freezing and would be turning to snow at any minute.

After settling in to the temporary digs in Gorgie where I’d be staying for my first month in Auld Reekie, we turned up the heating and went out to the pub across the street to enjoy some impressively poor renditions of Oasis’s Wonderwall while waiting for the flat to warm up.

We returned to a freezing cold flat, and figured out that the gas had run out. I knew nothing about topping up the gas. I knew nothing about the five pounds of emergency credit available if I’d pushed the right button. I just knew it was cold, I hadn’t bought bedding yet, and it was going to be a long night.

While I pulled on half the clothes in my suitcase, my friend Julie was sleeping in the other room, and decided to boil the kettle and then cuddle it on the couch to try to keep warm through the evening.

{Warning: Don’t try that at home.}

The next morning was the beginning of life in Edinburgh: trips to the big Tesco for the necessities, getting denied a bank account, getting caught in the rain without an umbrella, getting denied a phone contract, getting caught in the rain without an umbrella again, and catching the bus headed in the wrong direction.

It was also the beginning of discovering what I’ll forever hold in my heart as the most beautiful city in Europe, finding a little shop that served Chocolate Soup, exploring the fantastic finds waiting to be had in charity shops, and studying for a Master’s Degree (and half a PhD) at a university so exquisitely located, I never once left the Divinity School without savouring the incredible view — Edinburgh Castle to my left, Princes Street below, the Firth of Forth, broody in the distance, sun streaming onto the yellow rapeseed meadows of Fife on the other side.

Those days marked the beginnings of these six years of life, thousands of miles away from the place that never stopped feeling like home, though I tried hard to set up shop wherever I was. And though this season has been full of good surprises, and bad ones, it seems I could’ve taken note of what was to come in the foreshadows of those first few days.

Though that simple moment of surprise on the plane made me think the chances of enjoying my brother’s company on the nine-hour flight was no longer a possibility, beside the closed door was an open window, just a little further along. And though the heat-less night in Gorgie was a tough start, the memories my brother and I share from Robertson’s Pub and Julie hugging the kettle make the inconvenience worthwhile.

Indeed these six years have gone rather differently in many ways from how I expected when I boarded that first flight, but I’ve continuously seen glory in the triumphs and the failings, especially in the times where things happened differently from how I hoped or expected.

Among the many lessons tucked into my heart for the journey home, another I’m holding onto is the realization that it’s easy to get discouraged when things aren’t going according to plan, but we can hold onto faith that even disappointments and trials can work out for good, when we love our Creator and are willing to wait on Him.

So hold on to hope, whatever you’re facing today. No matter where you are on the journey of life, tomorrow is pregnant with possibility, and it’s an adventure that’s just beginning.

xCC

I‘m not one for creating a religious rule to abide by any means. Or for saying something always ought to be done a certain way, at a certain time, or in a certain place. (Since Jesus seemed to move in different ways at different times.) So please don’t think for a moment that with the following I intend to create a rule for you to begin to abide by as soon as you’ve finished reading this post.

Lately I have taken the time every now and then to get on my knees before God. I often sit and read my Bible on the couch in our living room while the Bear is napping. I’ll pray for a while, just sitting there quietly.

Sometimes, however, I just want to make sure I remind myself that God is God and I am not. I am glad that He calls me His friend. I also want to revere Him as my Lord and King.

Out of a desire to do so, the other day I spent a few minutes on my knees in prayer. A great calm met me there, and I felt peace at just having taken the time to bow myself before a Holy, Holy God. There was a great reverent intimacy in that moment, and I was glad I had listened to the prompting to get low. It reminded me of some lovely lyrics from a song that is sung by Nicole Mullen (and some other folks):

I get on my knees, I get on my knees,
There I am before the love that changes me.
See I don’t know how, but there’s power,
When I’m on my knees.

If you find yourself struggling to focus, distracted, or perhaps just unable to dig deeper in prayer, I would love to recommend getting on your knees before your heavenly Father. Ask Him to help you pray if you don’t know how to pray or what to pray. Sometimes the most simple acts of worship can have incredibly profound results.

xCC

I have a lot of favourite people. I guess. I mean at least a gracious plenty. But this chick is one of my favourite favourite people.

She’s the one on the right. That’s me in the middle, in case you were wondering. Yeah. That was before I had a baby. I could button that vest. And that’s her also-awesome sister Natasha on the left, currently in Indonesia. She’s also one of my favourite people. And even if spell check tries to correct me one more time for putting a “u” in favourite, I’m gonna keep spelling it that way because I said I was gonna stick to British spelling on this blog way back in Scotland and I meant it! Travel…ling Tuesdays and all!

Anyway.

As I was saying, one of my favourite favourite people, also seen below, a dear friend of mine from Scotland via Denmark, is considering coming to South Africa to do an internship with Samaritan’s Feet and stay with us. And I’m so excited, I want the whole world wide web to know!

Everybody has to sit in dog poo at least once in their lives, right?

It’s like that scene in Elf, where Will Ferrell runs into the conference room, throw his arms out wide, tosses his hat aside and says, I’m in love, I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it!

So. Two prayer requests for you guys today. #1 Please pray that it will work out for Agnes to come stay with us in South Africa. And that she’ll stay for ages and ages. (It’s a little selfish, I know.)

#2 If Agnes can’t come to South Africa, I might be heartbroken. Forever. So I’ll ask twice, please pray it works out for her to come.

The Bear loves her, too!

Thanks for letting me share the love. For one of my f-a-v-o-u-u-u-rite people. Who will hopefully rock up on the scene in SA in early 2011. YES!

xCC

In honour of Scotland’s special national day yesterday, we return to beautiful Caledonia this Travelling Tuesday for a wee walk in the Pentland Hills. These beautiful hills are a delightful escape into the Scottish countryside, sitting just on the southern edge of the city of Edinburgh. I didn’t spend nearly as much time on them as I should have.

Picture happy sheep, grreen grreen grrass, and enjoying wee kick back in a pub after a nice chilly hike in the rain. How the outdoors in Scotland should be. Herewith, the aforementioned visuals:

I dinnae remember the name of the loch below, sorry!

But enjoy the fact that all that purple is these delicate and beautiful flowers:

Scotland the Brave, Scotland the Beautiful. We salute you!

Happy Trails to you this Travelling Tuesday. May the road rise to meet you!