Two Simple Words

Hey friends! I'm over at the Mothers of Daughters blog today! Won't you join me to read one of my favorite posts of the past year?

And enjoy your 4th of July!

S and J Take Edinburgh: Part 2

Onward we go.

When last I left you, Julia and I were trekking our way down the Royal Mile, no small feat on those centuries-old cobblestones, dodging bagpipers and silver hawkers on the street.

But we made it, finally, to the place I had long wanted to visit: The Palace of Holyroodhouse.

As I mentioned yesterday, this was my fourth visit to Edinburgh, but I had yet to see Holyroodhouse because the Queen, bless her, was usually in residence every time I'd been there. And for some reason, the Queen doesn't want us Commoners tromping around her house when she's home.

Go figure.

But this time, I went early enough (the Queen is usually in Scotland in July) that we could tour the castle. I was so glad we did!

This is the entrance. Impressive, huh?

And this is the main courtyard (the forecourt?) where just this week the Queen was greeted by 100 Guardsmen in kilts. Lucky girl!

We weren't supposed to take pictures inside the Palace, but I'm a rule breaker (just ask my husband) and I snuck this one of the inner courtyard. I can just imagine little Prince George playing on the grass.

Julia and I enjoyed our tour of the Palace. It's smaller and more accessible, I think, than many of the Royal Residences. I could just imagine the Royal family eating breakfast in the dining room or hanging out on the patio. Sadly, they wouldn't let us see the apartments, but I think we got a good sense of what life at Holyrood would be like.

Once outside, we walked through Holyrood Abbey, where they allowed us to take pictures. What a stunning ruin of this small chapel.

Once outside, we could walk around the grounds to see where the Royal family would greet guests--all 8,000 of them--at a tea party to celebrate the opening of Holyrood Week, a week the family spends in Scotland every year. In the picture below, you can see the huge, white tent that they are already setting up for the event.

 You can also see, in the picture above, the hill they call Arthur's Seat, a very popular spot to hike in the middle of the city.

Of course, after walking all the way down the Royal Mile and through two castles, Julia and I were getting a wee bit tired, but we both said that as long as we were there we should at least see what all the fuss was about.

So we climbed. Not all the way to the top, but high enough to get these amazing views.

Let's recap our day, shall we? Just in case you can't keep up. We had already toured Edinburgh Castle, walked down the Royal Mile, ate lunch at a cute tea shop, and toured The Palace of Holyroodhouse. Once we finished our hike (about 45 minutes), we were absolutely gassed, but our B&B host had assured us that our hotel was "just around the corner" from Arthur's Seat, so we started walking again.

We walked.

And we walked.

And we walked.

We even took a moment to sit down and assess where we had been.

Let me tell you, our B&B was nowhere to be found "right around the corner"!

We finally found a set of steps that seemed to lead to a neighborhood, so we took them. Good call, because a couple of blocks later we found the bus that would take us to our B&B.

Where we rested. For about 30 minutes.

Because soon it was time to go find the very thing we had come to Edinburgh to do and we were NOT going to miss it: the Harry Potter walking tour.

Yes, I said "walking."

We took the bus to the area where we would meet up with our group, and despite the fact that we were completely exhausted, we would not be deterred. We were going to find Harry Potter no matter what!

Well, we didn't find Harry, but we did find a whole lot of other interesting sites having to do with Harry.

Like the cemetery where J.K. Rowling got a lot of names for the characters in her books.

And Voldemort's grave. (I'll just leave this for the true HP fans to figure out.)

And this other grave that has nothing to do with Harry Potter, but I just liked it for reasons that will be obvious to people who know me.

We saw The Elephant House, the coffee shop where many believe J.K. Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter book.

But, actually, our tour guide told us that J.K. herself has since confirmed that, although she DID write some of her books at The Elephant House, the first book, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, was conceived at Spoon, the upstairs coffee shop shown here.

Do with that whatever you want.

Our tour took us to Victoria Place, the street that probably spurred the idea for Diagon Alley.

And ended up at the City Council building where all of the famous people from Edinburgh have placed their hands in the walk of fame. All eight of them.

At the end of our tour, we were so glad we did it. It was a lot of walking and not as much talking as we would have liked, but still, it was fun to see some of the places that inspired someone to write some of the most imaginative and incredible books of our time.

That night we fell into bed, but not before we watched the old men play bocce outside our window.

Oh, Edinburgh, I do love you. I'll be back someday.

***

Thanks for reading along on my most recent adventure. If you'd like to keep up with my everyday adventures, just sign up to receive updates via email. And I'd love it if you'd share my adventures with a friend. 

***

Here are all the posts in my most recent series:
S and J Take London: Part 1
S and J Take London: Part 2
S and J Take Oxford
S and J Take Edinburgh: Part 1

S and J Take Edinburgh: Part 1

So after four whirlwind days in London and two glorious days in Oxford, we departed on the last leg of our journey: Edinburgh.

Edinburgh was Julia's pick, being the Harry Potter fan that she is, because she wanted to see where it all began. To walk in the footsteps of J.K. Rowling, if you will. And walk in her footsteps we did, as you will see.

But first (and, sadly, I don't have any pictures to show you of this), we took a six hour train ride from Oxford to Edinburgh. If you've never taken a cross country train ride (or even a car ride) across the U.K., you're really missing out because the landscape changes right before your very eyes, growing more and more lovely the farther north you go.

And then you reach Scotland. Ahhhh. As you climb into Scotland the terrain becomes much more rugged, green patches dotted with grazing sheep, and you can really picture Robert the Bruce leading his pack of warriors across the fields to meet the English army. It's astounding how much has not changed in Scotland through the years (of course, I'm sure the people who live there would tell you differently).

We arrived in Edinburgh around 4 p.m. in a slight drizzle, caught a cab to our B&B, and were immediately struck by the wonderful kindness of the Scottish people. Our cab driver chatted us up through the entire drive, telling us this and that about the University and other sites we were passing, and our B&B host, Ross, was absolutely wonderful. In fact, everyone we met in Scotland was cheerful, kind, and helpful. These people are genuinely lovely, and they make me want to spend more time in their country.

Here's another great thing about Scotland: it hardly ever gets dark there in the summer, so you can pack a lot into your day. In fact, we went to sleep with the sun still shining and we woke up in the morning to sunshine. I love that! (This picture was taken at about 9:00 p.m. Doesn't it look like mid-afternoon?)

Anyway, since it was getting later in the day and we were starving from our trip, Julia and I headed toward the Royal Mile for dinner. We hadn't had an pizza on our trip yet, so we indulged our American tastebuds and ate at Pizza Express. Yum!

*Edited to add: How could I forget?! After our pizza we took a very interesting tour that our B&B host had told us about: The Real Mary King's Close, which was a walk through a long-buried neighborhood of Edinburgh--it actually got buried underneath a building!--with some history of the Black Death and the very difficult life of peasants in the 1600s thrown in for good measure. Eeep! Kinda creepy, lotta touristy, but fun for a laugh.

After The Real Mary King's Close tour, our legs could barely carry us any further, so we headed back to our B&B, 23 Mayfield, for a good night's rest. I forgot to take a picture of the outside of our B&B, but here's a picture of our room--so comfortable and well-appointed. We loved it!

And check out this view from our window!

That's the back garden where guests can sit and enjoy a dip in the hot tub or a glass of wine. Lovely.

The next morning, after a fantastic breakfast at our hotel, we were ready to tackle Edinburgh, and tackle it we did since it was our last day of sightseeing. We had a full agenda. Surprised?!

First up, Edinburgh Castle at the top of the Royal Mile.

No trip to Edinburgh is complete without visiting the castle. Julia and I bought audio guides, which give you lots of great information, but you could also take a free guided tour. Whatever you do, take some kind of tour when you're there because there is so much history.

And the views cannot be beat.

My favorite place in the castle is the apartment of Mary Queen of Scots where Mary gave birth to her only son, James VI, who later became James I of England and translated the Bible into what we now know as the King James Version.

This was my fourth visit to the Castle, which is why I didn't take many pictures, but I saw exhibits that I had never seen before. The prison exhibit was new to me and really interesting.

Next on our list: walk the Royal Mile.

The Royal Mile is a steep, cobblestone street full of history. And shops. And tourist traps. But still, I love it. It's where B and I saw J.K. Rowling herself back in 2005.

Julia and I meandered our way down the Mile, taking our time, ducking into woolen shops, and trying on hats.

(Sorry, Julia, I couldn't resist!)

(And besides, she's at camp and won't see this for several weeks.)

We were nearing the bottom of the Royal Mile around lunch time and happened upon the cutest little tea room, Clarinda's, where we felt like we had stepped back in time. The tiny restaurant still looked like it probably did 30 years ago, with prices to match!

It was such a respite for us--a hearty sandwich and a pot of tea were just the ticket--that it became one of my favorite memories of the trip. And check out these homemade goodies!

One of those scones just might have become ours. With clotted cream and jam, of course.

Next up: Holyrood House, Arthur's Seat, and a Harry Potter tour.

Please come back tomorrow for more of our trip to Edinburgh. And I'd love it if you'd invite a friend or two along! 

S and J Take Oxford

I realize that I haven't finished updating you about our trip. Last week kind of got away from me, but this week I plan to finish my updates, of which there are two more.

If you want to read about the London part of our trip, click here and here.

*****

Here's something I noticed about London on this trip. Back in the '80s, the first time I visited London, I found it charming because the city, in fact, the whole country, seemed about 20 years behind America. I liked that I could still find Mom and Pop stores and that people still slowed down enough to pop into a tea shop for a good cup of tea in the middle of the afternoon.

What I noticed this time is that London has caught up. No longer does the city seem a little slower-paced than the cities here. The people are just as fast-walking as New Yorkers. Look out or they'll mow you down! The stores look just like American stores. In fact, we walked past a Five Guys in London (and, no, we did not eat there).

I'll say they've caught up!

(Side note: Everything in London looked especially spruced up. It was so clean and so easy to get around this time. I wondered if this was a result of the Olympics. Anyone have an opinion on this?)

So, after the fast pace, noise, and congestion of the Big City, Julia and I were glad to make our way to Oxford to start the second half of our trip.

Oxford is one of my favorite cities in England for several reasons. The history. The University. The architecture. The bookstores. The back alleyways. I could go on and on. Oxford is lovely, and if you've never been to Oxford, you really should give it a couple of days on your next trip.

We left London early on a Sunday morning, caught our train to Oxford, and made our way to our B&B--the Cotswold Lodge Hotel.

Let me just say that everything about our stay there was perfect. When we arrived, the woman at the desk was so sweet to us. Our room (an upgrade!) wasn't quite ready since we were early, but she stored our bags while we took off to explore. Once in our room, we were wowed! It was huge--even the bathroom!--and very comfortable.

Plus, it was just down the street from the house I had stayed in when I studied in Oxford in college.

Boy, did that place bring back memories!

Our first order of business was to take a walking tour of Oxford, which was fun, especially getting to see inside some of the colleges.

After the walking tour, we walked some more--over to Christ Church to see the famous dining hall after which the Hogwarts dining hall was modeled.

And we both fell in love with this in Oxford:

I totally want one for tooling around our town.

Our second day in Oxford was so much fun. We started out early at the rental car place, and soon we were off to explore the Cotswolds.

We started in Minster Lovell, a beautiful little village I had seen once before and wanted Julia to see. There is a ruin of an ancient manor home here that I think would make the perfect setting for a magazine spread. This place is magical.

We drove around a bit after exploring Minster Lovell, and made it to Whitney in time for lunch with Sarah of Modern Country Style. Yes, there was a blog meet-up in the Cotswolds! I've already shared a bit about that here, but let's just say that Sarah is such a dear and I already miss her. Visiting her was like visiting a long-time friend. I could have stayed for hours.

But we had more countryside to see, so we sadly said goodbye to Sarah and went on our way.

Much of our afternoon was spent driving, just seeing the beautiful Cotswolds countryside.

We did, however, make a stop in Bampton to see a couple of Downton Abbey shooting locations. This is the church where Mary and Matthew got married and where Edith got left at the altar.

We also found a village that Julia had researched called Bibury. What an absolutely charming place!

Along the way we saw more Cotswolds limestone buildings than we could count, each one prettier than the next.

And now, for those of you who have bothered to read this far, I have a humiliating funny story to tell you.

It was the end of our day, and I had gotten quite used to driving on the left hand side of the road. In fact, I had gotten just a bit cocky, because as I was driving into our very last village (the one I had wanted to see), I said to Julia, "You know, I think I'm getting the hang of this driving on the left thing. I'm getting pretty good at it. You always think you're going to hit something and then you don't!"

Famous last words.

Not 30 seconds after I said that, BANG!

"What was that?!" I screamed.

I glanced over to my left and saw that the passenger side mirror had flipped in toward the car and was completely shattered. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw that I had hit the mirror of a parked car, and a piece of said mirror was lying on the ground.

After a few tense moments, during which a choice word or two that my daughter had never heard me utter before in her life may or may not have flown from my lips, I turned the car around in the middle of the street to see what I had done. Yep, I had hit the mirror of a parked car because I didn't give myself enough room to go around it.

All I could think was, "What am I going to do? How do these things work in foreign countries?" If I were at home, and the driver wasn't around, I could just leave a note on the car with my phone number, and we'd figure it out later. But A) I wasn't from there and B) I didn't have a phone number I could leave and C) I didn't know what the heck to do.

In the end, Julia and I found a place to park, walked back to the car to inspect the damage, found out that the plastic piece that had fallen from the mirror actually snapped back in place, fixed it, and left the village immediately.

We didn't even get to walk around because we were too flustered by what had happened.

I guess I'll have to visit the Cotswolds again sometime.

A Pep Talk To Myself

Two weeks ago today, Julia and I sat with a dear old/new friend in her lovely dining room with the huge, silver framed mirror, twirling delicious pasta around our forks like pros. The British sun, so evasive at times, even decided to make an appearance, casting shadows across the garden outside.

Meeting Sarah for the first time felt like a sacred privilege, and being in her home was like entering a sanctuary. A reprieve from the constant assault of travel.

As we chatted, getting to know one another in person for the first time, even though we had known each other virtually for about two years, Sarah asked my daughter a most pointed question:

“Aside from your parents, what has been the biggest influence on your faith?”

I sat, hushed, barely wanting to move as I quickly anticipated what she would say. I honestly had no idea.

She fiddled around the edges for a while, “Well, we have a great church, and I enjoy going to the youth group.” But that wasn’t really it.

“I have some really good friends.” But that wasn’t it either.

“I’d have to say, though, that the camp I go to has had the biggest influence on me over the years. I’ve been going since I was ten, and I’d say that my faith has grown the most through camp.”

It wasn’t the answer I thought it would be, but it was the most perfect answer possible.

Of course it was camp.

*****

This morning I said goodbye to Julia and sent her off to camp for seven weeks. Seven weeks! Think about that for a minute.

What were you doing seven weeks ago?

I was finishing up a semester of teaching and getting ready for Kate’s graduation. Since then I have been to California and back, to England and back, and to the wedding of one of my dearest friend’s daughter.

Seven weeks is a long time.

In the next seven weeks I will, hopefully, get a lot of writing done, organize our basement, and spend a little time next to a lake.

I will also, most likely, watch as our oldest daughter moves out of our home for good.

I feel like I’m in a constant state of letting go.

*****

Dear mama who might be reading this and wondering if it ever gets any easier: It doesn’t.

It’s never easy to let go, but it’s good. 

And it’s right. 

And it’s necessary.

Just a little pep talk to myself.

S and J Take London: Part 2

You may recall from yesterday that Julia and I were last seen running and eating our way through London. Boy, that sure didn't happen when I first visited in 1984! My first "meal" was a cheese sandwich on white bread. And things didn't get much better after that. The London food scene has come a loooong way, baby!

Onward.

Friday included a trip to the Tower of London where our Yeoman Warder was none other than Dickie Dover--the same guide B and I (along with my sister, Jenn, and brother-in-law, Tom) had when we visited in 2005! At the end of our tour I mentioned this to him, and he told me that next year he will be retiring from his post after 40 years. Amazing!

I just love the Tower and all of its stories and history. They've added a marker so you can see the spot where Anne Boleyn lost her head. And Mary Queen of Scots. And Kathryn Howard. And . . .

One of the main things that Julia and I wanted to do on our trip was a bicycle tour, and we had scheduled that for Friday afternoon because the weather looked like it was going to be nice. We were not disappointed--the weather could not have been better and the bike tour amazing. A little scary at times, but after a while we got the hang of it--London drivers aren't the most patient with cyclists--and really enjoyed our tour. If you're ever in London, definitely try the Fat Tire Bike Tour. Totally fun.

Saturday started out rainy, so we decided to go grab some breakfast at one of our favorite little spots: The Muffin Man. I had taken my other girls there, and they insisted that I take Julia. Nothing special, just a very sweet tea room where we had some lovely scrambled eggs on an English muffin.

After breakfast, it was starting to rain a little harder, so, rather than head to Portobello Road as planned, we decided to visit a couple of museums in the morning while we waited for the rain to clear. Good call.

We visited the Victoria and Albert--my favorite--and the British Museum because Julia had read about the cool stuff there including the Rosetta Stone and this guy:

By late morning the rain had cleared, so we made our way to Portobello Road and the wonderful market there. Sure, it's crowded. Sure, it's touristy. Sure, it's overpriced. But it's fun!

And, besides, one of my favorite movies is based there.

By now, of course, our feet were killing us, so we took the bus to Kensington Palace where we had tea at The Orangery. Perfect!

After tea, we walked back to our hotel to pack up and get ready for the next leg of our journey: Oxford and the Cotswolds.

Come on back tomorrow for the next part of our amazing adventure!

*****

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S and J Take London: Part 1

[Warning: I'm a foodie, and there just might be a theme to this post. And some pictures of food. Do not read on an empty stomach.]

Two weeks ago, my daughter, Julia, and I set out on an amazing adventure--a similar-yet-different trip to the one her sisters and I took when each of them turned 16. Sadly, I'm out of teenagers now, so this special mother/daughter trip time of my life is now coming to a close.

*sniff sniff*

So, we left Chicago for London where we made South Kensington our home for a few days. I had never stayed in that neighborhood before, but I liked it. Our hotel was close to the tube, restaurants, and museums.

And one of the coolest French patisseries I've ever seen: Aux Merveilleux. They specialize in two things and two things only: brioche and merangue. And they do those two things very well.

We might have stopped there more than once.

We arrived on a Wednesday morning, got settled into our room, and took off to get money, coffee, and wifi access. We were getting pretty tired from our overnight flight, but we were determined to simply keep going on Wednesday--the best way to fight off jet lag. First stop: Harrods, which was pretty much down the street and which we found once we got on the right bus. We "ooohed" and "aaahhed" our way through the most expensive department store in the world, but only ended up buying a cupcake.

The rest of the day was a lesson in frustration. We had hopped on a red tour bus, hoping to get a good overview of the city while simply staying awake, but traffic was absolutely not cooperating. Apparently, the Queen had left the palace to open Parliament earlier that day, and this played havoc on traffic. At one point we spent about 45 minutes in essentially one spot. And they wouldn't let us get off the bus!

If you know me, you can just imagine the scenario.

We finally got moving, so Julia and I decided to stay on the bus until we got to Covent Garden where we would enjoy our first meal. British comfort food. Ahhhh.

After a delicious meal of steak and ale pie and our first (of this trip!) sticky toffee pudding, we headed back to our room to sleep soundly.

The next day was amazing. Let me just say right off the bat that those of you who enjoy lying on the beach for hours on end would probably hate traveling with me, but my feeling is that if I'm somewhere incredible I want to see as much as I can see and do as much as I can do while I'm there.

I can sleep when I get home.

And soak my feet.

So Thursday was a flurry of activity. We started at St. Paul's Cathedral.

We walked to Shakespeare's Globe Theater to take a little tour.

After the Globe, it was time for lunch at my happy place in London: Borough Market.

Borough Market is a foodie paradise filled with fresh produce . . .

. . . cheese . . .

. . .  and the tastiest grilled cheese sandwich you will ever eat.

We needed to walk off our delicious lunch, so we decided to stroll along the South Bank toward the London Eye. Very fun! This was a new perspective of the city for me, one I really enjoyed.

We thought we would try to take a flight on the London Eye, but when we got there, the line was crazy. Like two or three hours crazy. There was no way we were going to waste that kind of time, so we left the Eye and hopped back on the red tour bus to finish our tour of London. Besides, our feet needed a break.

We got off the bus near Westminster Abbey, one of my favorite places in London. Thankfully Julia thought it was pretty great too, so we spent a bit of time wandering around there. In fact, we closed the place down!

Our feet were getting tired, but that didn't stop us from hiking it up to Leicester Square to the TKTS booth to get tickets for a show. We ended up getting tickets to see "Matilda," which we absolutely enjoyed. Very much.

After the show, however, our feet would not carry us any further. We were beat, so we caught a cab to take us back to our hotel. And here's where our interesting day got even more interesting.

As we were driving, I was pointing out various sights to Julia. We turned down The Mall, heading toward Buckingham Palace, chit chatting with our driver about all the traffic we had encountered the day before due to the Queen's little visit to Parliament. Suddenly, we noticed that there was no traffic coming toward us on the opposite side of the road. And then we noticed two policemen on motorbikes, leading some sort of motorcade (not, by the way, the first motorcade we had seen that day--those Royals were out and about!). I nudged Julia and said, "Look, someone's coming. Wouldn't it be funny if it was the Queen?!"

Um. Yeah. It was the Queen.

We couldn't miss her because she was wearing a bright, chartreuse dress with, of course, matching hat. And sitting beside her, in full military regalia, was her husband, Prince Phillip. Right there! Not twenty feet from us on the other side of the road. (I learned later that they were on their way to a ceremony to commemorate the 70th anniversary of the D-Day launchings.)

Even the cab driver was a little gobsmacked.

[Side note: This was not my first Queen sighting. I also happened upon her in 2005 during a parade to celebrate VE Day. She and Prince Phillip were riding in a carriage, and Charles and Camilla were riding in a carriage right behind them. Double sighting!]

OK, I realize this is getting long, so tomorrow I'll give you a slightly briefer overview of the next two days.

*****

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*****

Queen photo credit.

All other photos are mine.

I'm Back!

Hello there! It's been a while, but I'm back and have lots to tell you.

Where have I been? See if you can guess.

A land of pomp and ceremony.

A land of afternoon traditions.

A land of beautiful cathedrals . . .

. . . and historic theaters.

A land where old meets new . . .

. . . but where the old usually wins out.

A land of amazing vistas . . .

. . . and real, live castles.

A land that I love . . . almost as much as my own.

I'll share more of my trip with you throughout this week, perhaps with some travel tips that can help you plan your own trip to the United Kingdom. It's such a great place to visit!

****

P.S. Here's what you're looking at:

1. Guard outside the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London.
2. Scones with clotted cream and jam at The Orangery, Kensington Palace.
3. St. Paul's Cathedral, London.
4. The Globe Theatre, London.
5. The London Eye and Big Ben.
6. Minster Lovell in the Cotswolds.
7. The Cotswolds.
8. The Palace of Holyrood House, Edinburgh.

The Sweetest Hello

 In all of the commotion of finals and graduation and having guests and traveling, I realized that I had forgotten to post this. I want to share it, even though it’s a week or two late, because this is what has been important to me recently.

***

She said to me sometime in her last week of classes, “I’m trying not to cry because I know once I start I won’t be able to stop.”

Yeah, honey, I so get that.

This past week has been one big rush, a blur of lasts. Last papers to grade. Last class to teach. Last chapel. Last final.

And that was just for me!

Her lasts are different, some of which I know nothing about, but all of which are significant, emotional, hard.

I’ve done a lot of reflecting these past couple of weeks, in between the grading and finishing and grocery shopping and cooking and getting ready for house guests. It’s an exciting time. A crazy time, too.

And yet, sitting here on my porch in solitude, my mind wanders to the early days—the carefree days of collecting new friends and settling in and working through problems and learning about people. The middle days of grinding it out even when you don’t want to, of questioning, of life-determining decisions. And now, these ending days and all the fun, uncertainty, and sorrow that they bring.

A friend said to me recently, “Oh, I remember the last month of college as one of the hardest. We all didn’t know how to say goodbye.”

I’ve been mulling that over for a while now, and I think there’s a lot of wisdom in those words. Do we ever really know how to say goodbye?

In my family, goodbyes are the worst. We pack up the car, smiling bravely like it’s no big deal and we’ll-see-you-next-week, all the while dreading that moment when we’ll have to hug and acknowledge that, rather than next week we’ll see you in six months or even next year. And suddenly we look up to see who’s crying first (usually my sister, Jenn), and then the dams all burst and we’re all crying and hugging and wishing we didn’t live 900 miles apart.

Right now, they’re putting on a brave face. Packing the car. Pretending it’s no big deal and we’ll-see-each-other-next-week. When the fact of the matter is, some of these people they will never see again.

The summer will bring joy and weddings and lots of firsts for my girl and her friends, but when the fall comes and real life settles in, that’s when the days become a little harder and a little longer. That’s when loneliness sets in, and the reality that four years of college seemed long at times but that was a blink of an eye compared to work life.

When the friends are disbursed, living life, doing whatever it is they are doing--and when the goodbyes have finally been said--that’s when the hope of heaven really kicks in.

And that’s when the words, “I will never leave you; I will never forsake you,” become the sweetest hello.

Things To Do With Kids in Chicago

You guys! I'm so excited because today I'm guest posting at my friend, Jo-Lynne's super-popular blog, "Musings of a Housewife"! And because I'm writing about one of my favorite topics--travel--and one of my favorite cities--Chicago. 

***

As an avid traveler, I’ve been to many beautiful cities all over the world. Zurich, London, New York—they all have a lot to offer and are among my favorites. But as a life-long Chicagoan, I’ll readily admit that I’m biased because, even though I’ve been to some of the world’s most amazing cities, I often tell people that the most beautiful city in the world is right here in my back yard.

If you’ve never been to Chicago, I hope you’ll start planning your trip after reading this post, because, truly, Chicago is such a great city. And despite what you may have heard or read, most parts of our city are safe and fun for the family.

So to help with your planning, I offer you our family’s Top Ten Things to do with Kids in Chicago.

****
Come join me over at Jo-Lynne's for the rest of my post, Things To Do With Kids in Chicago.

Catching Up and Catching My Breath

Well, friends, it’s been a crazy couple of weeks, as you can probably tell from my absence here. I thought I’d just recount for you (and for me) the whirlwind that has been my life since May began.

I finished up my semester of teaching, which is always fraught with lots of varying emotions. This year was no exception since I, at one point, thought this would be my last year of teaching, only to have my head swing quickly in the other direction nearly giving me whiplash. I’ll be back next year, which is also kind of mind blowing right now. I had another great group of students, which also makes me a little melancholy—I’m terrible with goodbyes—but knowing I’ll be back next year makes the goodbyes a little easier.

I entertained guests for a week, which was wonderful. My parents were here for a week, B’s parents were here for a couple of days, and my college roommate came for a night to pick her daughter up from school. It was a whirlwind of FUN, and I loved every minute of it, but writing anything of substance with lots of people around is a little hard.

I moved kids back home. Oh yeah, in the midst of having guests, Kate and Caroline moved back home. Needless to say, things are a little topsy-turvey back at the ranch right now.

I hosted an open house for 70 people. I couldn’t let graduation weekend go by without celebrating all of Kate’s friends and opening our home to their families. It was a phenomenal day—glorious in every way. The weather could not have been better, and the company was just grand. Doing things like this makes me so happy.

I watched my daughter graduate from college. The highlight of my year, I think. A proud mama moment, to be sure, and the culmination of four wonderful years. It was an emotional weekend, but the big news of the day was that I didn’t cry as she accepted her diploma. A true feat for me!

Photo Credit: Meredith Melby via Ginny Melby

So I’m catching my breath right now. Thankfully, B had a conference to attend in California this week, so I’m putting my feet up with a book by the pool and enjoying these next few days of rest and relaxation.

Feel free to keep up with me at Instagram. I’ll be posting pictures to make you jealous! (Just kidding . . . a little.)

"Time to Let Go" at the Mothers of Daughters blog today

On the day my oldest daughter was born, I sat in the hospital room holding her close, and I said the most unexpected and strange words to my husband.

“I feel like my job from now on is to teach her to not need me.”

Not exactly the words you’d expect from a first-time mother holding her newborn.

In fact, you might expect the opposite reaction:

“This world is so dangerous; I need to protect her.”

“People are bound to hurt her; I must hold her close.”

“She might not feel loved; I must smother her with affection.”

I suppose that growing up with parents who encouraged my independence might have contributed to my own parenting instincts. I suppose that losing a sibling at a young age may have affected my parenting style as well.

But in that hospital room twenty-two years ago, I had a very deep sense that the Lord was speaking something important into my life. . . .

*****

You all know I write at the Mothers of Daughters blog once a month, right? *wink wink* This month I'm writing about letting go. It's been on my mind just a little bit lately since my oldest will be graduating from college next week and moving out of the house this summer. I'll probably write more about that next week, but join me over there today to read the rest of this post.

And while you're at it, pass the Kleenex.

Five Reasons I Love Teaching on a College Campus (and an update)

Today reminded me yet again why I love working on a college campus. Let me list some of those reasons for you.

1. I get to work in a gorgeous setting. The building I teach in is old. Really old. And it's surrounded by flowering trees that make going into work at 7:00 a.m. . . . dare I say . . . nice?

2. I get to hear amazing speakers for free. This morning I went to chapel to hear Canon Andrew White, also known as the Vicar of Bagdhad. I will go hear Canon White any chance I can because A) he's hilarious, B) he encourages students to "take risks, not care," and C) he absolutely LOVES Wheaton College (even more than his beloved Cambridge, he boldly admitted today). This morning he solidified my admiration by making the entire chapel sing "I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart" together. 

There might have been a couple of tears.

(For a really interesting interview with Canon White click here.)

3. I get to see crazy campus capers. Apparently, today was "Dick's Day" on campus (in honor of one of our former presidents, I assume). It's an annual tradition whereby students conduct a "Braveheart" style joust or something like that in the middle of campus. Everyone was there, faces painted, and it was hilarious. 

They even had bagpipes.

4. I get to have lunch with amazing students. One of my students from the fall of 2012 keeps in touch, and we have lunch together every few months. Today I listened to her tell me about her year and what she's learning in her classes, how her relationships with her siblings have gotten better, how she's going to serve God in Amsterdam this summer, and as she spoke I realized that I was seeing real change in this girl. She's growing. She's learning more about herself and others. She's loving intentionally. 

And I thought, what a privilege that I get to witness this!

5. I get to watch the lightbulb go off. If you've never experienced it, you won't know what I mean, but when you watch a student struggle over their work, then suddenly they get it--they've worked out a sentence just so or they narrowed their thesis until they have something workable or, best of all, they recognize their own mistakes!--there's nothing like it in the world. That moment makes everything worthwhile.

Oh, I have my days when I wish I could be free from the bondage of grading papers, to have time to travel, and to have more hours in the day to write (that's for sure!), but then I look around at all I do have, and I realize how blessed I am to rub shoulders with these students. 

And so, with that in mind, I have to tell you something. Remember the post I wrote a couple of months ago about being in a time of transition? Yeah, well, that. 

A couple of weeks after I wrote that post, my department chair called to say that some things had come up and they needed me to come back next year after all. I had a day (!) to make up my mind, and I'm still surprised that I said yes. I had so adjusted to the thought of doing other things next year that I was getting quite excited about it.

But, hey, when a door opens, you've gotta walk through it, right? 

So, actually, the transition continues, but just in a different way. My mind is still reeling, trying to get around the thought of teaching again next year, but I'm excited. 

It feels right to be able to still be in a place where kids still joust, a room full of (nearly) adults sings preschool Sunday School songs together, and lightbulbs never dim.

Jesus at My Kitchen Table

Are you doing any special reading for Holy Week? Our church sent out some booklets of brief devotional thoughts for the week, so I’ve been working my way through those.

This morning’s reading was about Jesus before Pilate (found in Luke 23). This chapter of the Bible tells how Jesus was put to trial, first before Pilate who couldn’t find any fault in him; then to Herod who mocked him and sent him back to Pilate; then to Pilate a second time. Still, Pilate could find no wrong in Jesus, but because Pilate was a weak leader and a coward, he ordered Jesus to be flogged and killed, releasing a thief and a murderer instead of Jesus.

The whole time, Jesus stood silently, not answering his accusers. Not saying a word to defend himself.

I thought about how quickly I jump to defend myself, how I always have something to say, especially when I feel backed into a corner. If anyone was backed into a corner, it was Jesus. False accusations flew all around him, and yet, he did not respond.

I wonder why. Why did he just stand there and take it? Why didn’t he just bring the temple crashing down on them all? Why didn’t he at least laugh at them and tell them that their day is coming?

Humility. Jesus knew that this was his time and that no answer he could give would save him from what he had come to do. Jesus knew that he was the only one who could set the world free, but in order to do that, he had to endure suffering, mocking, torture, and humility.

As I wrapped up my time in the Bible this morning, my coffee cup in my hand, I started to imagine what it might be like to have Jesus sitting at my kitchen table with me. His physical scars healed, yet still visible. His compassion showing through his eyes. His love overflowing.

And I wondered what I would say to Jesus.

I would tell him about my friend who is in a place of intense spiritual warfare. I would ask him to help another who is suffering with mental illness. I would ask him to help another who is struggling financially after a divorce.

Surely he knows the people I love who are hurting.

And I would tell him all about the incredible blessings in my life—my husband, my daughters, my family, my friends. We could talk for hours about the blessings.

Then I would take his hand, open his palm, trace the scars, and whisper, “Thank you.”

Practice Week

Now here’s a term I loathe: empty nest. There are just too many connotations behind those words.

Some people think of the empty nest as freedom. Some think of it as bondage.

Some people think of the empty nest as activity. Some think of it as rest.

Some people think of the empty nest as a new life. Some think of it as death.

I don’t think of it as anything but change, and, as I’ve said before, change and I don’t get along so well.

The whole idea of an empty nest, an empty house, whatever you want to call it, makes me a little uneasy because it’s a big change. And it’s coming.

So I was glad that last week, B and I had a chance to practice the empty nest. My dear friend, Kathy, who also has a daughter who is Julia’s friend, knew I had to teach last week, so she invited Julia to go to Florida with them for spring break.

(Nice friend, huh? Everyone should have a Kathy in her life.)

So since Julia was beach bound and the other two were away at school, B and I spent the week at home.

Alone.

Practicing.

Because in two short years, our nest will indeed be empty, and, to be honest, I have lots of conflicting emotions about it.

I often wonder will it be too quiet? Will I have enough to do? Will we even like each other anymore? Will I miss the girls too much? Or not enough?

I feel like I need Charlie Brown’s pal, Lucy, who gave 5 cent psychiatric help to get through this.

(As a side note, one of my friends, whose nest has been empty for a while now, wisely dragged her husband to counseling six months before their last child left the house. When I asked her why, she said, “I want both of us to be prepared ahead of time.” What a proactive wife!)

You know what? I didn’t die.

I won’t say I was thrilled to have my daughter gone for a week, but I didn’t pine for her, I didn’t cry. I survived.

In fact, my week was busy.

I taught. I got some things ready for a shower I’m hosting soon. I met my husband for dinner one night. It felt like every minute was filled all week long.

And the best thing of all? We acted really young and took a quick road trip over the weekend to watch the Blackhawks play an away game. 

(I know! Crazy kids, right?!)

(B had bought the tickets, thinking he would take Julia while I stayed home to teach, but when she got a better offer I told him I’d go if we could leave after class.)

It was spontaneous and fun. We talked for six hours each way in the car. We laughed and dreamed and gave thanks for our lives.

I consider last week a gift—a time to practice being “empty nesters” for a week.

You know what I learned? It’s going to be O.K.

The transition won’t be without some bumps along the way, some lonely moments, some wishing we could go back in time if just for a little while. But now I see that I also have a lot to be thankful for and a lot to look forward to.

Maybe with a little more practice we’ll be really good at it when the time comes.

The One Thing I'd Like You to Remember When You're Out on the Road

Want to know what will add about ten years to your life? Teaching a kid to drive.

And since I’ve done that three times, I’d say I’ve nearly got one foot in the grave by now.

Julia has her permit, and even though she’s 16 she doesn’t quite have enough behind-the-wheel hours to get her license. We’re working on it, so last Saturday as we went out to breakfast and ran some errands, Julia drove while B and I sat helpless and added gray hair to our heads.

(Just kidding—it wasn’t that bad. Julia’s actually a pretty good driver.)

The problem is all the OTHER drivers out there.

Even though I’m teaching my daughter to drive, I’m still a student, too. Here’s what I’ve been learning lately: when I’m driving, I’m not the only one on the road.

I know! Revolutionary, huh?

But, see, sometimes when I drive, I can tend to think that it’s all about me getting to where I need to be and getting there as quickly as possible. Everyone else, get out of my way!

What I don’t think about are the kids like Julia who are just learning how to drive and who might be a little unsure of themselves.

Or the little old lady who I saw just this afternoon turn the wrong way down a one way street right in front of me as I was out walking the dog. I waved her off before she got too far.

Or the pregnant mom driving herself home from a doctor’s appointment who might be distracted about the news she just received about her baby.

Or the man who just left work because his wife called and the news isn’t good.

See, when I’m out there driving on the road, so are all kinds of other people—some good drivers, some not so good, and some who simply have other things on their minds.

And then there are the drivers who think they own the road and that everyone should drive just like they drive and if you don’t accelerate as fast as they’d like you to they feel like they have a right to zoom around you and give you a heart attack.

Like the guy did last Saturday when my pre-licensed driver accelerated out of a stop just a little too slowly for his liking. He was behind her in his big, black, luxury sedan that, I’m sure, scoots from 0-60 in just under 3.2 seconds. I was watching from the rear view mirror—he was on our tail, willing Julia to speed up. And when she didn’t speed up fast enough, he zipped around us on the right, just as two lanes were merging and Julia, being in the left lane, was veering slightly to the right, almost smack dab into the side of his shiny, black car.

Let’s just say it was a near miss.

But it was a near miss that I’m sure my little girl won’t forget. She ended up shaking and crying but trying to pull herself together because she was, after all, driving.

And Mr. Hotshot? He zoomed ahead of her, only to have to stop a block away at a four way stop. We practically pulled up right behind him.

So where did that move get him? Pretty much nowhere.

And where did his stunt leave us? Rattled. Scared. And calling him names I don’t like to use except in select situations, this being one of them.

But back to my lesson. I learned on Saturday that when I get behind the wheel I need to just take a deep breath, slow down, and realize that there are new drivers—and old ones, too—who need a break from us.

Would you join me in remembering this lesson? Next time somebody doesn’t drive quite up to your standards, will you also take a deep breath, exercise some patience, and remember that there are all kinds of scenarios out on the road with you?

My daughter thanks you.

*Disclaimer: that photo was taken in a parking lot. It is NOT my car. (My car isn't that dirty . . . today.)

Reflecting on Risk: Part 4

Finishing up my reflections on risk today. To read my earlier thoughts, click here, here, and here. To read Hanna Rosin's article, "The Overprotected Kid," click here.

*****

My point is this: there is no truly safe place in this world. Risk is the name of the game when it comes to life. We have to decide what’s best and healthiest for our kids, knowing the risk that’s out there.

And what’s best and healthiest for our kids is a small dose of risk, doled out in appropriate amounts at appropriate times.

One day it may be walking to school. The next it might be allowing them to sleep over at a friend’s house. Then we move on to handing them the car keys. And sending them to college.

The risks start small, but get bigger and bigger as our kids grow and learn and mature. That’s how it’s supposed to work in order for our kids to become productive citizens.

(Little nod to a family joke here.)

But what if it doesn’t work out? What if we let our kids take risks and they backfire—our kids get hurt, or worse? I’ve lived most of my life with the deep understanding that risk sometimes doesn’t work in our favor (I guess that’s why it’s called risk).

Many of you know that when I was a girl, my younger brother drowned in a tragic accident at summer camp. Had my parents known what would happen on that day would they have sent him? No. Of course not. But could they have known with 100% certainty that an accident would not occur? Again, no.

Sadly, it did.

Many years later it was time to put my own firstborn, at age 11, on a bus to head six hours north to summer camp for two weeks. Did I know the risk? Yes, I did. I felt it in my bones. It was one of the hardest days of my life.

So why did my husband and I decide to send her?

Because we both agreed that a life without risk is a life without trust. In other words, God was asking me to trust Him with the life of my child, and we trusted Him to take better care of her than we could. No matter what.

We still do.

I also believe that a life without risk is a life without growth. The day my daughter walked to school by herself was probably a day in which she stood a little taller, believed in herself a little more.

Does that mean that I deliberately put my daughters in harm’s way or that I’m advocating for you to do such a thing? Absolutely not. I assess risk, just like anyone would—I think about the cost every day—but in so doing I have to accept that often my fears are not justified. And if I’m acting on unjustifiable fears, I’m definitely not doing what’s best and healthiest for my child.

My oldest, that little pipsqueek who merrily walked off to school by herself in first grade, is graduating from college this May. She’s making plans, talking about the future, looking ahead.

Do I have fears for her? Of course I do, but I refuse to let those fears hold her back in any way from doing what she wants to do. Because my fears are not justified.

There is so much about this world that I do not know, that I cannot know. So what I must do is hold on to what I do know.

And in the end, here’s what I do know:

• -       Jesus loves my children so much more than I do. (John 3:16)
• -       He sees their every move. (Psalm 121:3-4)
• -       God has a plan for the lives of my children, and it is good. (Jeremiah 29:11)
• -       He directs their steps. (Psalm 37:23)
• -       He knows what their future holds (Psalm 31:15). I do not.

My job, I believe, is to trust God completely with my children and to allow them to grow in their trust of God, too, by letting them take appropriate risks at the appropriate times.

Life’s risky, that’s all there is to it. There is so much that is out of our control and that was never meant to be IN our control. But I believe with all my heart that God’s got this. Our kids are safest when placed in His care and when walking in His will.

Reflecting on Risk: Part 3

This week I'm reflecting on Hanna Rosin's article, "The Overprotected Kid," from The Atlantic. You can read my previous posts here and here. 

*****

Our natural stance as parents is a protective one. We want to keep our kids safe. We all do.

Many parents spend most of their waking hours thinking about how to keep their children safe, anticipating potential dangers and attempting to eliminate those from their children's lives.

Hanna Rosin’s article brings to light many statistics about child safety that might seem a bit counter to our strong parental intuition. She mentions, for instance, that playground accidents today are actually occurring at about the same rate as they were in the early '80s, even with so-called safety guidelines in place, and that rubber matting might actually be causing more broken bones because children have placed in them a false sense of security. 

Rosin also cites a researcher into children's fears who states that, "'our [parents'] fear of children being harmed,' mostly in minor ways, 'may result in more fearful children.'"

I know that's not what we're after as parents.

And what about child abduction, because isn't this one of our greatest fears? Interestingly, Rosen, citing an extensive study that shows that children are no more at risk of abduction today than we were in the ‘70s and ‘80s.

So why the alarm about child safety? Two reasons, I think: the media and the state of the family.

I don’t really want to get into an argument about the media. Let’s just all agree that that group can tend to be a bit . . . alarmist . . . at times. And they’ve got the bullhorn, so the word gets out that horrible people are lurking at every corner, trying to get to our kids.

I found Rosin’s commentary on the state of the family even more compelling. She points out that, according to one study on childhood risk, even though crimes against children have declined since the ‘90s, one type of crime has increased: family abduction. You know the scenario—Parent A has custody, but Parent B wants the kid so s/he takes the kid anyway.

Sadly, Rosin sums up the situation this way: “If a mother is afraid her child might be abducted, her ironclad rule should not be Don’t talk to strangers. It should be Don’t talk to your father.”

I’m shuddering at that thought.

So what's the takeaway? What can we learn from Rosin's use of statistics? 

One thing I think we could learn is that our own fears for our children might be holding them back. We have to fight our own fears so that our kids can feel free to take some risks that actually might help them build confidence as they grow up. 

And then there's the stranger-danger issue. While I think it's important to be wary of strangers, we need to realize that not every person is out to harm our children. In fact, I think our kids need to know that there are some very kind people in the world, and, should a problem arise, it might very well be a stranger who helps them out.

So tell me, what do you think about fear and raising confident kids? What are some fears you have for your children?

Reflecting on Risk: Part 2

This post is part 2 of a four part series in which I'm reflecting on Hanna Rosin's article, "The Overprotected Kid" and thinking about risk and kids. You can find Part 1 here.

***

My oldest started walking to school by herself when she was in first grade. My husband and I had purposely bought a house near their little public school so that the girls could eventually walk themselves to school, but I didn’t expect it to happen when Kate was quite so young.

In January of Kate’s first grade year, I got the flu so badly—about four times in a row in just that month—that one day I could not get out of bed to walk her to school. I simply said, “Kate, you’re going to have to do this on your own today. You know the way and you know all the neighbors, so if anything happens, knock on one of their doors. And I can watch you from the window until you get almost all the way there, so you really don’t have to worry.”

That morning my little girl practically skipped out of the house.

Sure, she was a little nervous, but I watched from the window, as promised, until she turned the corner and was just a few feet from the school grounds. She made it safely. And then she made it safely the next day. And the next day. And the next.  For the next few years. I’d go with her on most days, but if I couldn’t, she knew she could make the walk by herself.

I think it made her feel grown up.

Was I being stupid to let her walk to school on her own at six years old? Obviously I didn’t think so then, and I don’t think so now.

I would never let her take unnecessary risk, but a certain amount of risk (in which I'm watching from the window), at the appropriate time, I think, helps build confidence. 

Hanna Rosin's article describes "the Land," a park in Wales where kids are pretty much allowed to roam free and do whatever they want, with very little supervision. She writes, "When Claire Griffiths, the Land’s manager, applies for grants to fund her innovative play spaces, she often lists the concrete advantages of enticing children outside: combatting obesity, developing motor skills. She also talks about . . . encouraging children to take risks so they build their confidence."

I want to raise confident children. Children who are aware of their surroundings, but who also have enough common sense to get themselves out of a tricky situation every once in a while. (And, frankly, I'd rather not know about some of those tricky situations.) Children who are confident in the decisions they make for themselves. Children who can navigate life on their own without looking over their shoulder.

So far, I think we're doing that. 

How about you? What small steps have you taken to instill confidence in your kids? What are some appropriate small risks you can allow your kids to take that might help instill confidence in them?

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