So hubs had a meeting in the UK on Monday, and while he was in his meeting I was at my friendly neighborhood dental office, but whatever. A few people have asked why I didn't go with him on this trip, but honestly the timing wasn't right. He arrived there Monday morning and was back here Wednesday evening.
I suppose we could have extended the stay, but my girls will be home next week, and then of course Christmas is looming rather large. I'll have a houseful, which means there's a mountain of cleaning, menu planning, decorating, shopping, spending, wrapping, and baking to do in the next few weeks.
That doesn't make me anxious at all by the way.
On Tuesday hubs drove out to our little village, sniff, sniff, and the texts and photos he sent were almost more than my heart could handle. We saw lots of ex-pat friends come and go in the years we spent in England, many of whom couldn't wait to get back stateside. They enjoyed their experiences abroad, but were more than a little bit happy to be back 'home'.
Our little family though? We were mixed. At the time, both girls were in uni in the states, and the distance in miles, airline flights, logistics, and time zones was feeling huge some days. From a job standpoint, hubs was ready to move into a new role, and we were both feeling the need to be physically nearer our own parents too.
But England. We loved you. We love you still. Your cold damp air seeped into our bones, but your beauty and charm and history and people seeped into our souls. It lies there still, mostly quiet, until it sneaks up into a moment present day and we feel a wave of longing for a different kind of life.
First thing after checking into the hotel, hubs jogged by our old house. The new owners have made some changes, but at a glance, especially from the outside, it looks almost the same. I can hear the gravel under my tires, see the knockout roses blooming up against the brick front, and picture a yard full of teenagers on an every Thursday night.
As he stood looking at the house, he saw the next door neighbor come running out, literally, to greet him. John gave the hubs a big hug, and while they were chatting their housekeeper pulled up in the drive.
My housekeeper, who
they wisely snatched up when we moved, because she is a gem in every sense of the word. She hailed from Spain, had been in the UK for decades, but still talked with a heavy Spanish accent. She is a warm and lovely woman, and she rushed right over and gave hubs a hug around the neck too.
And that my friends is the kind of thing that makes your heart feel like it might spill out into a big sloppy mess.
The rest of his Tuesday was essentially just giving in to a deluge of sights, sounds, smells, and emotions. A walk down memory lane I lived via text...
"
Just walked thru the commons..."
"
Ran by the pond..."
"
The 3 Pigeons is now called the 3 Oaks...remember when I answered the phone there because they were too busy to answer it themselves?"
We remember.
"Went into the camp...it's not the same without our pup here to run circles around me, and chase the birds.'
"
Had fish and chips and mushy peas for lunch..."
"
Ran down the High Street...so much has changed...so much feels exactly the same..."
Thank goodness.
Then there was dinner. Hubs only had time for one dinner in town, and he knew it would be in our favorite Indian restaurant. It took six years, but he bonded with the guys who owned and ran this restaurant in a way that still makes me smile. We all did. We ate dinner here on our last night living in this village, and they told hubs he was like their brother. That is not a small thing to say.
A lot can change in four and a half years, but happily there were still some old familiar friendly faces there to greet him when he walked through the door. '
Sir! Where is Mam? And the girls?..."
I've been thinking a lot about timing lately, more specifically God's timing. How He knows what we need and when we need it, and how it is often only in hindsight we see the beauty of His wisdom that knows no end. I was anxious about the timing of our move to the UK back in 2003, for many reasons, but mostly because I had daughters navigating the tricky waters of teenage life. There was so much I couldn't see, couldn't predict, couldn't know about what those next years would hold, but God knew. He knew we needed to be there, not here.
As we prepared to leave this land we had grown to love in 2009, anxiety lurked once more at the edges of my brain. Is the timing right? Is it now? God knew.
When I look back on all that has occurred in our lives in the four years we've been back in the states, I marvel at the timing, and stand in awe of a God who knows. In 2009 we had no idea what the future held, no inkling that our family would walk through
grief and sorrow the likes of which we could never have imagined, but God knew. He knew we needed to be here, not there.
I try to to tuck this lesson learned into the deepest recesses of my heart as we face the future. Children turned adults, out from under the watchful eye of their mom and dad, so many changes looming, moves, retirement, what's next, the when, the where, the how...it's enough to make a person feel a little anxious.
Then I remember.
Timing is everything.
And God knows.
