Story Time...

Like I mentioned yesterday, I attended another afternoon tea for international students at the home of John and Jenny Cooper. (I wrote about our first experience at the Cooper's back on the 10th of October under the post entitled Answered Prayers.) Anyway, this time I went to the tea on my own because Matthew needed to work on some homework. My temporary grandma Paola was going to be there, so I didn't feel so intimidated going stag. As soon as John opened the front door to greet me, I felt at home again. Something about the Cooper's house reminds me of The Chronicles of Narnia books. Maybe it's that John seems like he could be the professor from the series. There are relics and maps and books galore from practically every region of the world, and I get the impression that if I were to open a wardrobe, it would not be too far-fetched to expect I'd be transported to another time and place. This couple is just the sweetest thing, and I enjoyed getting to talk to John a lot during this particular Sunday afternoon.

Living in Cambridge has accosted me repeatedly with one certainty - my life is exceptionally boring and predictable compared to the lives of the people I have met. Granted, many of these people have a one-up on me since they have been on the earth double, triple, and sometimes, almost quadruple the amount of time that I have, but still... their histories are incredible. Even the students who are my age come from more diverse upbringings than I ever imagined they would. For instance, one of Matt's female classmates was born in Saudi Arabia and lived there until she was 8. She then moved to the UK, lived here for a few years, and then went back to a British international school in Saudi Arabia. Eventually she moved to Manchester and Liverpool and now plans to live in Cambridge for a few years while earning a doctorate. She is technically a Saudi citizen, but she speaks like a native Brit. Of course, there are even more dynamic stories than her's. With students from Chile, France, Cyprus, Italy, Slovakia, China, India, Canada, Scotland, and Poland (just to name a few) the "About Me" slide shows on Matthew's first day of class were fairly diverse. That makes my, "Hi, I'm Kelsey. I have lived in Oklahoma all my life. The end," sound kind of pathetic. I know, I know, my 'normal' is someone else's 'exotic;' but I do look forward to the day that my life story evokes a "Wow!" instead of an "Oh."

Well, if you reread the Answered Prayers post, you will remember the super romantic and adorable love story of John and Jenny. They were sweethearts during school, he went to serve in the military, they wrote a ton of letters back and forth, and eventually got married. A movie plot, basically. They have spent their 50+ years of marriage traveling around the world, and they now enjoy hosting international students and coordinating a housing complex for visiting scholars. Well, I got a chance to ask John more about his life as we were nibbling on biscuits and sipping our teas. He got the most giddy when he talked about his wife. I was surprised to see him so smiley. His wrinkled face absolutely lit up. He and Jenny still have the stacks of letters that they wrote to each other over five decades ago. Boy would I love to get my hands on those! (Matt told me that he thinks I should interview them both and write a biography of their lives. It would give me something enjoyable to do while documenting a story that deserves to be recorded. Maybe I will... or maybe I could start by recording the stories of my own grandparents and great grandmother. I don't know.)

Since it was Remembrance Sunday here in the UK (like our Veteran's Day in the US,) John's recollections of war times seemed to be forefront in his mind. He interrupted everyone's conversations and prompted us all to commemorate those who have died serving their countries, no matter what country that happened to be. He put his hand on the shoulder of the young man from Germany and said, "I know our countries have had many difficulties in the past and have shared in a lot of conflict and loss of life. All three of my uncles were killed in World War I, leaving my father as the only surviving son in his family. This is a sad day, but it is also a good day. A day of honor and respect. We put aside our differences and acknowledge sacrifices that have been made on our behalf." (At this point he started tearing up and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. I unsuccessfully stifled my sniffs as the tears ran down my cheeks. I don't know how these old people get me crying every time! Geez.) And then he finished by saying, "I also hope we pause to remember that Jesus told us that there would be no love greater than a person who lays down his life for his friend. Don't forget that Jesus laid His life down for us so that we could be His friends." His words were so simple, but they were so sincere and heartfelt. I can't fully describe their poignancy. 

When I got a chance to speak personally with John, he told me about the years he was stationed in Palestine with the military. He was there from 1945 to 1948 and was present when Israel became its own country. Stashed away in his attic, John has the letter that he wrote to his mother accompanied by the newspaper from that day in 1948 when the front page news declared the birth of the Israel we know today. Again, I would love to get my hands on those pieces of paper! He told me that he only saw one person get killed during all his years of active duty. Unfortunately, that one person was a small Arab boy. He was shepherding his flock, accidentally crossed into hostile territory, and was gunned down on the spot. I couldn't pretend to understand how seeing something like that would affect a person's heart, so I mostly just listened quietly until he asked about Oklahoma. As a whole, I don't think my generation has a grasp of what it feels like to be at war like our grandparent's generation does. No wonder they want to sing patriotic hymns during the 4th of July and Veteran's Day Sunday.

I also got a chance to listen to an excerpt of a story told by this lady named Shirley. Her and her husband Basil are close friends with the Coopers, and they too have spent their married years going on great globe-trotting adventures. Basil lived in China during much of his childhood because his parents set up a missionary hospital in a village there. (Let's just stop and appreciate for a second what it would be like to go to a completely unfamiliar culture like that of China and adjust to life without using tools like the Internet. Can you envision the culture shock? Isolation? Adversity?) As if that was not enough, Japan invaded China when Basil was 11, and he and his parents were put in an internment camp. I didn't have the courage or emotional fortitude to ask whether his parents survived the ordeal, and Shirley didn't volunteer that information. But, from a few things she said, I felt like maybe they did not make it out of China alive. She said that Basil never went back to China until 2003, when he took Shirley and some of their Chinese friends from Cambridge with him. They went back to the villages from Basil's boyhood memories, visited the hospital his parents founded (which has now been taken over by the government,) and they even got to meet the 95 year-old Chinese woman who had served as matron of the hospital for years. She remembered Basil's parents very well, and it sounded like it was a touching reunion. According to Shirley, perhaps the neatest little tidbit of their visit to the hospital was that there was only a small part of the original structure that had gone untouched after all these years - the prayer room and chapel. She doesn't think that the government knows what a special portion of the building they have kept in tact, but it meant a lot to her husband.

The following quote (and the book it came from) is one of my favorites, and it came to mind as I was writing/typing today. It sums up something that I am very thankful for. Despite my self-proclaimed so far 'boring' life, I worship a God who has something in store that is anything but boring. And He will direct my steps. He will orchestrate for me the role of a lifetime. All I have to do is follow where He leads me. Even if I screw up my lines or miss a cue, the show will go on. His story will become history, and I will praise Him for eternity as every tongue and tribe and nation celebrates.

"God is always looking for ordinary people to play significant roles in His unfolding story. And, given that He is God and supremely confident in Himself, He is free to choose the least among us—the slowest, the lesser-known, the last, the smallest, the poorest—to accomplish amazing, God-sized stuff. While as humans we try to partner with the brightest and most powerful, God is simply looking for people who are willing to take Him at His word—those confident that with Him in the equation everything is possible." I Am Not, but I Know I AM by Louie Giglio

Yep. So that was my Sunday afternoon. Intense, thrilling, emotionally stirring. And I didn't even have to leave my chair. I just sat, sipped my tea, and listened during story time.