We Made It!

362 days ago, we began our migration from Oklahoma to England.

This was taken as we sat in the Chicago airport awaiting our transatlantic flight to Heathrow. Our feet would not touch American soil for 6 more months. (Don't ask me why we stuck out our tongues. It was probably because we didn't know which emotion to go with - anxiety, elatedness, etc.)

77 days ago, we gathered a grand total of four suitcases (all our earthly possessions at that point) and began the long journey back to the States.

Our flat looked beyond sad to be empty again. We never really decorated it, and we made sure not to leave any reminders of ourselves for the next occupants. So, it's not like it had changed all that much because we lived there. But man did that place make a lasting impression on us. 

As we waited on our taxi, I took one last look around and made Matthew document the moment with my iPad. This was it. But I swear we had just arrived.

45 days ago, Matthew was inducted into medical school.

He has sworn the Hippocratic Oath and now spends countless hours pouring over anatomical diagrams and learning about things like embryological cardiology. Because a Master's Degree from Cambridge just wasn't enough.

4,850 miles now separate Matthew and I from Cambridge. (According to Google maps, it's actually 18,833 miles from doorstep to doorstep. Apparently the trip would take 1,066 hours. And, step #282 would be to "Jet ski across the Pacific Ocean." I'm not joking. That's exactly what the directions say.) Some days I wake up expecting to smell mold, hear rain, and jump on my bike to go to Sainsbury's. Other days I wake up and get ready for my 45 minute commute to work, feeling like a lifetime has passed since I wandered through cobblestone streets and chatted with friends from all over the world. Needless to say, life is different now than it was a year ago. And it will continue to progress rapidly enough that 362 days from now I can say the same thing. It's the great circle of life, if you'll allow a Lion King reference.

Looking back at my first blog post ever, my words seem almost prophetic. They are as applicable today as they were then, demonstrating the constancy I have uncovered despite drastic change. I'd like to repeat a few of the sentences I wrote back on September 28th, 2011:

"It hasn't sunk in yet, but we are indeed in our new home!!! All in all, things went rather smoothly. We are on the adventure of a lifetime that God has perfectly orchestrated so far! There will be ups and downs, but like my grandma reminded me before we left, we will try not to sweat the small stuff. Thank you all for your prayers. Thanks for taking an interest in our lives and spending the time to keep up to date on our everyday happenings."

I can barely choke back my tears as I close this chapter. However, I know that my heart and soul will always keep the book cracked open to the pages from this past year. I cannot fathom that I have had the honor to tell such a tale, nor the privilege of sharing the story with such characters. Lord willing, this is not the end; but rather, it is the beginning.

The XXX Olympiad...

London 2012 was the thirtieth modern day Olympic extravaganza. Thus, these were the games often referred to as the "Thirtieth Olympiad." And the TV guide people took full advantage of this numeric happenstance by labeling the cable channels that were carrying coverage of the games as "XXX Olympics." Clearly, they hoped the viewership would increase if subscribers believed they were getting a free (ah-hem) adult version of the festivities. I was honestly a little hesitant to click over to NBC Sports for fear of what visual images might be accidentally emblazoned on my conscious. And let's face it, you may have clicked on my blog title out of curiosity and a similar assumption. Well, we like to keep it family-oriented here, and fortunately so did NBC. But I'm guessing the channel naming guy chuckled to himself for his cleverness.

Anyway, Matthew and I were actually already here in Houston when the two weeks of Olympic competition began. However, during our final weekend in Cambridge, the torch was making its pass through our fair city on its final leg before going to the stadium in London. Friday night was an all-out carnival atmosphere on Parker's Pieces (the green lawn nearest the train station.) There were booths of ethnically diverse fair foods and homemade thingy-majiggers with thousands upon thousands of people milling around the area. It had been raining all day long (shocking), so the ground was quite sloppy, but my wellies got me through it. Ain't no mud gonna keep me from seeing the torch!

Remember Sela (Touch of Africa founder) and Xenia (yoga buddy extraordinaire)??? Aw, I miss them!!! Sela generously decked us out in patriotic gear. I found it ironic that three girls from Botswana, Germany, and America were donning British colors. I suppose it is only proper to dress for the occasion.

And of course, proper attire includes ridiculous faces. As if our headband flags weren't outlandish enough. 

After downing some delicious food cart cookies, the anticipation began to build. Time to line up along the barricades and crowd as close to your neighbor as possible!

The little kids were so excited. This boy was cracking me up with his commentary during the wait for the torch. The cutest thing he said was <in his adorable British accent>, "Daddy, we are soooo lucky to be here today!" What precious, once-a-lifetime memories for all these families.

Oh shoot! Don't blink or you'll miss it! The fire has arrived!!!

Thankful for these gigantic screens, we got to see the lighting of the Cambridge cauldron. They also aired a motivational video of athletic domination from past British Olympians. I felt inspired to run real fast and jump over stuff. But instead, I ate another cookie. Typical.

Then, the weirdness started. Giant paper-maché puppets, belly dancers, and school children??? Honestly could not tell you what in the world this portion of the programming was about.

Whatever. My hubby wore shutter shades. Life complete.

Oh wait, maybe now my life is complete. Took my very own picture with the torch. The woman holding it was nominated to be a bearer because of her recovery from severe anorexia and her ongoing work to help other women with eating disorders. You go, girl.

We thought she was a gymnast at first based on her height.

Ok, really, what more could you want besides a free limited edition Coke in a fancy London 2012 bottle?

All of the above served to excite me into full-blown Olympic mode. Yet, the next morning, I was pushed even further onto the brink of totally overwhelming enthusiasm. Somewhat substantiated rumors were swirling that my favorite royal couple were due for an appearance at a special torch ceremony. I would probably have kissed Xenia when she told me that she got us tickets to the aforementioned event, but she told me via text. So I couldn't.

Basically, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (Will and Kate) had never visited the city mentioned in their titles. Moreover, they were both Olympic Ambassadors and had not done much in the way of promoting those roles up until that point. It made logical sense that their inaugural trip to Cambridge would be schedule for the same weekend that the torch arrived. They could essentially kill two birds with one stone - appease the commoner 'constituents' with a royal sighting and bring in additional PR for the Games. Accompanying this logic were a few more encouraging tidbits: first, the Cambridge University college where the ceremony was to be held just so happened to be the one that Prince Charles (Will's father) attended; second, the BBC was set to air live coverage of the event; and third, the general public was not allowed to attend as it was an invitation-only affair.

I was convinced. This was my chance. I would finally see Kate and her gorgeousness in person. We would obviously have plenty of time for small talk, we'd bond over our newlywed experiences (clearly ours are remarkably similar), and ka-boom! Best friends for life. It was a foolproof plan. Xenia obtained the invites, and we met her before the sun came up on the morning of the event. They would start letting in spectators at 5:00am. We showed up at 4:45 just to be safe. First in line? Most definitely. Got cozy with the porter, which came in handy when he asked to check student IDs. (Shh... I don't have a Cambridge student ID.)

Pity that I waited until the last few days in England to see our town in the light of the pre-dawn hours. It was stunning. Silent, tranquil, ancient. Absolutely lovely.

Mesmerizing.

When we finally made it inside the courtyard (all by our lonesome selves), we staked our claim front and center. Matthew was ecstatic to be up so early.

Xenia and I were still holding out hope that Kate was coming! (Despite the fact that security was incredibly lax, the rain was incessant, and there was no red carpet.) Hey, it could happen!

Xenia was kind enough to share her umbrella with me, but I was eying the official Olympic merch. Probably would have jumped the barricade and nicked one of the umbrellas or jackets, but that would have destroyed my future friendship with Kate. Princesses are not encouraged to interact with criminals.

The torch bearer was eying something else. In this shot it looked like she was ticked that the cameraman was not focused on her. But whatever he saw sure made him happy. He was super smiley for six in the morning.

Almost two hours after we had left our flat, the moment of the torch lighting approached. Unless Will and Kate decided to swoop in at the last minute, their appearance was increasingly less likely with every passing moment. My heart broke a little.

The security folks who run alongside the torch carriers were pretty intimidating. Truly. I saw a video of one of them tackling a lady who jumped out of a crowd to take a picture. Tackled. To the ground. They don't mess around.

No William or Catherine to be found, but the torch whooshed to life nevertheless.

In sincere British fashion, the flame triumphed despite the rain.

However, as soon as that torch ran out the door, so did all of us. I'm surprised no one lost an eye with all those umbrellas poking around.

Although disappointed at the lost opportunity to rub shoulders with royalty,  I was feeling blessed to have one last chance at quality time with Xenia. Our frizzy hair was trying its best to ruin our final meeting, but we didn't let it. Plus, we were counting on the fact that this was not actually our last group picture! Perhaps next time we will have the chance for a more flattering hairstyle in a sunny locale.

It's hard to believe how quickly those 9 months flew by. Institutions like the Trinity library and the King's College Chapel are forever filed in my memory under "Places I Never Want to Forget." But these locales would have been cold and empty for Matthew and I had we not experienced them together with our new friends.

It's been just under a year since we emigrated from Oklahoma to England. And it's been just under two months since we moved again from England to Texas. The change we have undergone is immeasurable. It crept in subtly, but left us drastically different.

I think I'll attempt one more blog post this week before declaring that I am officially caught up to the present. Woo hoo!!! I do hope you have enjoyed keeping up with the Grants. Your support and prayers throughout countless transitions have kept us going and have guided us more than you will ever know. I have derived much comfort from the knowledge that though distance has separated us, we have been close in spirit. THANK YOU!

Last Tour Guide Gig...

Matthew and I had exactly one week from when we left Italy until we would wave goodbye to England for good. We attempted to squeeze every last drop out of our time in Cambridge and London. As a consequence of traipsing back and forth across the European mainland, we had somewhat neglected the United Kingdom. Obviously, we don't regret any of the experiences we had, but of course there will always be a million other little things that we wish we had done. The good news is, we are young. And hopefully, we will have another chance to return to England and check a few more things off the bucket list there.

Fortunately, that final week in England was packed full of multiple highlights and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I can't imagine the next time Matthew and I will have so little responsibility and so much quality time with each other. No school, no work, no worries. Just awesome British-ness. And love. (Cheesy? Yes. True? Totally. But I like cheesy.)

Anyway, a few days before our departure, hubs and I got to play tour guides one last time for a small contingent of fellow Okies. Three lovely Thetas (boom, boom!) were studying abroad, and one of them was the sister of one of our best friends from home. (Confused? Doesn't matter.) So, Matt and I had the privilege of one more day in London town, showing off the sights to our wonderful visitors.

Before meeting the girls, I forced my man to go to the Victoria & Albert Museum with me. I knew that it was home to a massive fashion exhibition, and I had been meaning to visit ever since I saw an advert for the 1950s ballgowns they had on display. My major was fashion/interior merchandising, for goodness sake. I couldn't allow myself to skip a premier design institute like the V&A. And it was free, so I didn't have to twist the mister's arm too hard.

What a regal space for a world-class collection.

Where all my Heritage of Dress classmates at? You know you know a cage crinoline when you see one. Bam.

1940s Dior... yes, please. I'd be fine dressing like this every day.

Maybe I should have been born in the 1950s. When I see outfits like these and watch Mad Men, I'm fairly convinced that my soul belongs in another era.

And how about these fun spindles! Art?

Or is it furniture? Or perhaps a welcome respite? Answer: All of the above.

Of course, our first stop once we finally met up with the three Thetas involved food. We absolutely had to take the girls to Ottolenghi. I think we single-handedly kept that Notting Hill bakery in operation with the steady stream of foreigners that accompanied us there. First Matt's family, then Jenna and Allison, then Meghan, and finally these collegiate sorority girls. I wish Ottolenghi would open a Houston location, or at least an international mailing service. The flourless chocolate cake would be well worth the shipping costs.

A quick jaunt down Portobello Road took us past a few things I will forever appreciate about England. Firstly, bicycles.

Secondly, gloriously weathered windows and wild gardens overgrown with roses.

Lastly, flower boxes and shutters surrounding antique glass panels topped with moss-covered shingles. Mmmmmm.

Most of the shops were closing up, and we had some big landmarks remaining on the agenda. Time to hop on the Tube!

Next stop, St. James's Park. And look what was waiting for us - a rainbow! During the whole 9 months we lived in England, I had never seen a rainbow. It was as if with this one sweet reminder God was assuring me of His promises. Ever faithful, ever true. Oklahoma or England or Texas or wherever. He's there, watching over me. Crazy how light-refracting water droplets elicit such a spiritual response.

Naturally, you knew you couldn't escape one more like this. (At least something pretty results from constant drizzling rain.)

Speaking of flowers, how's this for a topiary masterpiece? The Brits don't joke around when it comes to the Queen and her Diamond Jubilee. Oh, and hey, this is Chloe: gorgeous visitor and my sister for a lifetime! (But really. Kappa Alpha Theta 'til we die.)

These brooding clouds were another first. Three-quarters of a year and I'd heard thunder a grand total of 3 times. Contrast that to our first week in Houston when it stormed (lightning AND thunder) almost every single day.

The sky perfectly framed the angel. Gasp.

"And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, 
 the clouds be rolled back as a scroll; 
 the trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend, 
 even so, it is well with my soul." 

I know many of these shots are going to look very similar to ones I already posted. And Matt kept poking fun at me for taking dozens of pictures of things I already had dozens of pictures of, but I couldn't help it. Stepping just one or two feet to the side of where I'd stood before composed a completely fresh perspective. Goes to show that regardless of the number of repeats, you can always see something new.

St. Paul's was another place that definitely never got old.

Can't say the same for the routine of the Piccadilly Circus break-dancing crew. They got my hopes up every time, only to dash them with a less-than-stellar repertoire of moves. Although I guess I have to give this guy credit for one impressive stance.

(Very) Shortly after the soiree in front of Ripley's Believe it or Not, we had to part ways with our visitors. As sad as it was, we had a train to catch from London to Cambridge. This day was bittersweet to say the least. There were several "lasts" and "finals." But the good thing about endings is that they open the door for beginnings.

My innermost self wasn't the only thing that had changed since September. King's Cross got a major revamp just in time for the summer Olympics.

Upon boarding the train, it was farewell to London. In the city where old meets new, a part of my heart now resides.

Apart from sitting in Heathrow airport waiting on our departure flight back to the States, that was our last glimpse of England's capitol. (Sad face.) In Cambridge, another "last" came and went - our final meeting with Paola. All in all, I held up really well considering that I may not hug her again until heaven.

Michaelhouse Café was the perfect setting for our rendezvous considering how many times Paola and I had chatted over tea and coffee here.

Can you tell that our eyes are slightly misty? Notice Matt's hand on my shoulder keeping me from collapsing into a fit of ugly sobs. One of my prized possessions is the book that Paola gave us that day. It is filled with sketches of Cambridge landmarks. And these aren't just any sketches, these are drawings done by John Cooper! Remember, John? He and his wife Jenny were the sweet couple who held international student teas at their home on Park Parade. Because the Coopers served us tea and biscuits, we were introduced to Paola. What a special connection! An eternal one, I'd say.

I can't dwell too long on that particular goodbye. I only made it through the first time around because I knew I could ride my bike over to Paola's house if I needed to. Clearly that can't happen anymore, but you better believe we are going to utilize the heck out of Skype. (Paola just got an iPad, and she's anxious to use it. Seriously, she is too hip!) I'm beyond blessed that this woman took me under her wing. I wouldn't have made it through those 9 months without her.

Alas, this photo brings us to the end of today's post. And consequently, we are nearly to the end of the Grants' time in Cambridge.

Don't panic yet. There will still be a couple more posts before we are caught up to the present day. And the next one will involve the Olympic torch. (Hard to believe the Games have already come and gone! Geez.) See ya real soon!