Am I speaking English?

What's there not to love about London: beautiful castles, stylish accents, and men in suits and peacoats. Right? :)

On my way to Kenya, I stopped over at Heathrow and planned ahead to make the most of a few hours in the UK. From the airport, I boarded the Local 77 bus to Windsor with my M&S "super whole foods salad with quinoa, lentils and butternut squash"...savoring my last chance at raw veggies for two weeks (sigh).

Windsor Castle

I think I asked for directions a ba-jillion times (what's a girl to do when she can't use her iphone?) Every time I opened my mouth, I got a, "Sorry?" Seriously. Don't we speak the same language? Am I mumbling? Foreign currency always throws me for a loop. I'm actually good at math but you can guarantee plenty of idiot money moments like me standing and waiting for change when they already gave it to me. The weather was very cold and thanks to my friend Shelly's down jacket (which fit nicely in a ziploc bag in my carry-on) I was temperature-content. I almost didn't get off at the right stop. Yikes. "Lost in London"...not a good headline. When I arrived in Windsor, it was dark and the castle was already closed but I wanted to experience something uniquely British: the Evening Service at St. George's Chapel. As you can imagine the church architecture was beautiful. Think: the Royal Wedding at Westminster Abbey (but not that big). The other attendees and I were led into the castle grounds by security and greeted by the clergy at the chapel door. Walking through the halls was a spiritual moment in and of itself. Soft lighting, cavernous ceilings and a sense that many had experienced God in this place. I had done my "Anglican Church research" so I knew what to except from Evening Prayer, a pretty dry service with no music. Monotone reading in proper British accents. Lots of kneeling, standing, sitting, kneeling...stand up, sit down, fight, fight, fight! And despite this unfamiliar style of communicating with God, I still asked him to show up. The reading was from Psalm 69 written by a man who was crying out for God to save him from sinking into the deep waters - fully aware of how his actions had created great damage. Recently in my own life, I had been thinking a lot about how we are all capable of falling like this. We all have the capacity to choose dark over light. But this reading gave me hope: despite ourselves, no matter what we've done, God is there with his love and mercy. For that, I am grateful.

You who seek God, may your hearts live! I so want my heart to live.

After the service, I walked around the quaint shop-lined streets still open for Christmas shopping. I sat down with a coffee and felt proud of myself for even making it there after the previous day's disastorous luggage situation and not knowing my way around the monsterous airport and roads of London.

Next stop: Nairobi, Kenya.