Opening the Windows of Heaven

 I was struck by a realization the other day. You might already have thought of this and I'm just late to the game, but it was a realization that has embedded itself in my heart and mind. I find it very comforting and uplifting.

I have been reading in the New Testament about Jesus's words and actions, including feeding multitudes with only small amounts of food. In a way we cannot understand, Christ was able to multiply small amounts of food in order to adequately feed thousands of people and still have his disciples pick up baskets and baskets of uneaten food. This is a miracle. 

I was talking to a friend the other day, and we somehow got on a related topic. I recalled a story I had once read in which an early Mormon man felt he was above such things as paying tithing or felt that the Church did not use tithing funds the way he felt they should be used. This man was telling a prophet or apostle (I can't remember the names of the people involved) that the way he paid his tithing to the Lord was by reserving a certain amount of his income for charitable works and then choosing to whom he would give his money. The person he was talking to admonished him for thinking he could circumvent the law of tithing as laid out in both ancient and modern revelation. 

In the Old Testament (including in Malachi 3:10), the Lord emphasized the importance of returning ten percent of all He blesses us with back to the Lord, and He made it a commandment. It is such an important commandment that He outlined the blessings of paying tithes and offerings and the consequences of not paying tithes and offerings. The blessings are miraculous. The consequences are dire--not because He is a vengeful god but because a nation that does not honor God will naturally fall, and in not nice ways (look where we are now!). 

My sudden thought was that this man who decided to take tithing into his own hands was overlooking the miracle of the loaves and fishes. Christ took a small, simple offering of a little bread and fish and was able to feed thousands. He can also take our small, simple offerings of tithes and offerings and multiply the effects to bless millions. The man who arrogantly thought he could improve on the Lord's plan for paying tithes into the storehouses by making his own charitable donations was doing a good thing, yes, but he could only bless a small number of people with that money. Christ can take our tithe offerings and multiply the effects in miraculous ways--far beyond our human capacity and knowledge. If we refuse to voluntarily give back to the Lord only a small portion of all that He has blessed us with, we deny not only His authority but His ability to work miracles. We are, essentially, refusing to feed the multitudes. Unlike the young boy who willingly offered up his little lunch of five loaves and two fishes to the apostles so that five thousand people could eat and be sustained (and for which I am sure he was blessed for the rest of his life, both spiritually and physically), we are arrogantly thinking we can do better than God. Charity borne of love and humility is always a good thing, but wouldn't you also hope that your donation of time and money could be made miraculous through the power of Christ? 

Until I opened my mouth, I had never thought of tithing quite in that light. I have willingly and happily paid ten percent of my income as tithing since I was old enough to earn any money, and the first thing Husband and I do when we get paid is donate our tithing and fast offerings. We have seem miracles in our lives as a consequence, but maybe someday we will be allowed to know how Christ multiplied our tiny tithe so that it could bless the lives of many more. It's not about self-aggrandizement, it's about glorying in the mercy and power of the almighty God, whom we love and serve. 

I am grateful for the lesson I was given. I am always grateful that my Heavenly Father is willing to teach me because it shows me that He sees me. Lately, I have needed to know I am seen, and this moment was a miracle in my own life. 

No Strings Attached

 Yesterday, as I was walking through the parking lot toward the grocery store, a woman, who was loading groceries into her car, called out to me.

"Ma'am! Ma'am! Are you going shopping?"

I thought that was pretty obvious, but I stopped and said yes.

"I have a gift card that expires today. I can't use it. Do you want it? It has $50 on it."

She seemed perfectly normal, so I accepted it from her with gratitude. Who wouldn't? 

Once I was in the store, however, I stopped to check the card balance based on the ancient Arab proverb, "Trust in God, but tie up your camel." I was not about to plop an extra $50 worth of groceries into my cart merely on the say-so of a stranger from the parking lot, however kind and sincere she appeared to be. I'm glad I did because the actual balance on the card was only $8.98. That was still almost $9 worth of free groceries! I got what I needed, emptied the gift card, and paid the difference. 

No, I don't know the answers to any of the questions you have about the woman in the parking lot. I wish I did. It's not every day that strangers hand me free money, so I wasn't prepared with interrogation points. Maybe she handed me the wrong card. Maybe she forgot that she had already used most of the $50 on the one card she had. I have no idea. I wasn't even disappointed that the balance was only $9 because that was $9 of cash I didn't have before. I was just pleasantly surprised that someone handed me a gift card out of what seemed to be an abundance of generosity. I usually have only pleasant interactions with strangers, and this was not an exception. 

Born (and Fed) in the U.S.A

Siân is in her third trimester of pregnancy. She feels like a whale and she is also nauseated a lot--still! I was the same: I was sick for the whole nine months during every one of my six pregnancies. After a couple of months into the first pregnancy (with Siân), I had developed a system of knowing when to vomit in the morning in order to reduce the overall nausea I felt throughout the rest of the day, and I did this with every pregnancy thereafter: after I woke up each morning, I waited until the time was right, quickly slugged down a large glass of cool water, and then activated my vomiting muscles (while I don't usually brag about this particular talent of being able to isolate the vomiting muscles, I feel it should be mentioned, if only once). When done quickly and before I ate anything for the day, the water simply came back up without any additional...seasoning...and I had the comfort of not heaving on an empty stomach. 

I know. TMI. But whose blog are you reading?

Siân hasn't taken the daily morning vomit path. Instead, she feeds her cravings in order to reduce the nausea. Sometimes, only root beer will dampen the urge to spew; sometimes it's orange juice; sometimes it's Twizzlers. 

Anyway, that was the long way around to saying that I do most of the cooking when it comes to the evening meal because Siân doesn't have the stomach for it, nor the energy. Siân is very grateful, and it has forced me to cook way more than I had been doing because I now have more people to feed on a daily basis. Before, when Joseph, Gary, and Elannah were mostly fending for themselves and it was often only Husband and I hungry for dinner, it was a little too easy to just get takeout. Cooking for the family is definitely an improvement for our bank account and our health.

My kids grew up eating a wide variety of dishes because that was my way of traveling without getting on a plane. Searching up new recipes and learning the cooking traditions of other cultures was also a way to get myself excited to cook meal after meal. I think I tried a two-week meal rotation once, but it only lasted for the first two weeks because I couldn't fathom eating those fourteen meals over and over and over. My palate demands variety.

While my kids are all right with trying new foods and have slightly more enlightened palates than their peers, I think the girls's spouses (and one soon-to-be spouse) are quietly worried about what I'm going to be making when they're invited to dinner. To a man, they all grew up eating pretty typical American fare, so when they're confronted with some exotic noodle dish like pad thai or baked potatoes with tuna-mayonnaise and baked beans as toppings (so English!) or an Indian curry, they are cautious. Fortunately, they fear offending me more than they fear trying something new (not that I would be offended, because I truly love each of them more than I require accolades for my cooking), so they'll gamely try anything once before they go back home and eat what they really like. They've even surprised themselves by really enjoying some of the things I've made (sushi bake, for instance, has become a real hit!). 

Siân's husband, Nathan, also grew up eating typical American dishes, so living with us and having me cook whatever strikes my fancy--and it's not usually what he's accustomed to--has been a little hard on him. He's a lovely young man, and he's not horribly picky, but I think that every evening for him is a bit of a worry as he wonders what he'll be confronted with this time. Not every recipe I try is a winner in my books, either, which makes it doubly tough for Nathan. But he neither complains nor make demands. If he just can't stomach what I have made, he will, without fanfare, fend for himself by making something else (usually pizza rolls or frozen taquitos). 

In honor of Nathan's grace and kindness, I decided to re-explore American dishes for a while, so I've made a lot of American-style casseroles and whatnot lately. I made American-style goulash in the Instant Pot the other day, and I thought it was very, very much like a yummy spaghetti bolognese (but with penne pasta), but I think I'm the only one working through the leftovers, for some reason. Hey, it's something to pack in my lunch for work, so I'm happy.

The most popular American dish I made recently was Jack Cheese Casserole, which is a recipe I included in the cook book I put together of our family's favorite recipes that I give to my children as they move out of the house, and which Siân has told me has become a favorite with Nathan and Tyler (recipe to follow). That casserole was gone the same night, with complaints that there weren't leftovers. 

I did try a recipe for Crack Chicken, but that wasn't a huge hit (though there is nothing wrong with the recipe). I had a lot of leftovers that would have gone uneaten, so today, per Husband's suggestion, I added some of the ingredients called for in our family's perennial favorite, Pampered Chef Turkey Ring (fresh parsley, celery, dijon mustard, dried cranberries, slivered almonds instead of walnuts, crescent roll dough), and salvaged the unpopular leftovers.

The quintessential American food, cheeseburgers, always makes everyone happy. I gently mix ground beef with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and a little bit of Worcestershire sauce to loosen the mixture a bit and make it easy to flatten. Then I create very thin meat patties and fry them, like a smash burger, and top them with cheese. I make fry sauce as a toasted bun spread and serve it all up with the traditional cheeseburger toppings (tomato slices, Iceberg lettuce, sliced onion, and dill pickle slices). 

I'll keep making American food for a while. Then, just when Nathan is getting all comfortable, I'll hit him with something deeply unfamiliar, haha!

This recipe is so typically American it turns your blood red, white, and blue. Bring this to a potluck and everyone will beg for the recipe.

Jack Cheese Casserole

Serves 8

8 oz corn chips (Fritos) (Siân uses tortilla chips)

2 cans tuna packed in water, drained

2 (12 oz) cans cream of chicken soup

1 (14 oz) can evaporated milk

1 large onion, diced, or 3 Tbsp dehydrated onion

1 (4 oz) can diced green chiles

1 pound grated Monterey Jack cheese (cheddar is also really good)

1. Preheat the oven to 350 deg. F.

2. Spray the bottom of a 9-inch by 13-inch baking dish with cooking spray. Spread the corn chips evenly in the dish. 

3. In a frying pan, saute the onion until soft (if using dehydrated onion, skip this step and simply mix the dehydrated onion in with everything else). Mix together the onion, tuna, soup, chiles, and evaporated milk. Pour the mixture over the corn chips.

4. Sprinkle the cheese on top of the casserole and bake, uncovered, for 25 minutes. 

A Cautionary Tale

 I got a text today from Denise, one of the faculty members. It said, "Will you be my best friend?"

That seemed odd. We already pinky swore we were best friends, like, two years ago, and we talk about boys every time we have a sleepover, so where was this coming from?

Just kidding. The only boys we talk about are our husbands, and only to brag about them. Plus, the last sleepover I ever had with a bestie was probably in 1989. 

When I went to investigate, it turned out that a couple of the girls in Denise's 10th period class had managed to snatch her phone and send out a series of texts to random people in her contacts. The girls are good kids generally, but this is definitely a lesson about password-protecting your phone!

Denise was flustered and less than amused, though she didn't scream at the girls. 

"I have to explain what's going on to about seven different people now," she said. Class was just beginning and she wasn't going to have time to sort this out for another seventy minutes at least.

"Didn't Kim's hair-raising story at lunch not give you the heeby-jeebies about leaving your phone within reach of students?" I asked.

"I know!"she said regretfully. "I thought I had it in my pocket!"

At lunch, Kim regaled us with a tale of what could have been the end of his career and his reputation (and even, perhaps, his freedom) because he left his phone within reach of a student. 

A few years ago, Kim had left his office door unlocked and his phone on his desk while he was teaching a class. A student opened the office door and grabbed the phone. Even though it was password-protected, the student could still access the photo app, and he took the phone with him into the bathroom. There, he proceeded to take a series of very graphic and intimate pictures of himself before putting the phone back on the desk, Kim none the wiser. The student thought it was a hilarious prank.

Several days later, Kim, still unaware of the photos, found that a couple other students had also grabbed his phone and snapped a few selfies of themselves--also as a prank. They told Kim about it, and something told Kim to go and look further back into his photo gallery. That's when he found the graphic photos of the boy. 

Kim was rightfully horrified and even traumatized by the photos. He immediately called our boss to report what he'd found, and that opened a police investigation into child pornography. Kim's phone was confiscated so that investigators could see if a claim could be made that Kim had solicited the photos from the boy, if he had any more such images stored in the phone, and what sorts of searches he had made in his browser. 

Fortunately, the investigation into Kim was closed after the student confessed that he had taken the photos of his own accord. Kim's phone was still destroyed, per policy, but as part of the agreement the boy and his parents made with the court, Kim was paid back the value of the phone. The student was never allowed to take seminary classes again (turns out he also had some issues sexually harassing young women).

My phone is password-protected, but I usually leave it on my desk. When I leave my office, my practice is to lock both my computer screen and my door, but there is a big window through which I speak to students that I cannot lock, even if I slide it shut. I've been lucky so far, but I am also taking this lesson more to heart from now on. The problem is that most dress pants do not include pockets large enough for a phone, which is why I leave the phone behind when I need to use the ladies room or run an errand. Yet my career and reputation could end in just a couple minutes if the wrong kid got hold of my phone...

Food for thought.

Wedding #4

 It's official!

Elannah and her boyfriend, Dalton, are engaged! 

Did I mention before that Elannah broke up with Dalton a little over a month ago? If I did, this engagement announcement will come as somewhat of a surprise. Without spilling the tea on all of their personal details, both of them grew a lot in the month they were apart. What amazed me most, however, was how Dalton handled being broken up with by the love of his life. He was terribly confused and sad, but he never spoke badly about Elannah to his friends and family. When he and Elannah ran into each other (which is inevitable in our burg), he was kind and caring rather than bitter and vengeful. Eventually, Elannah spent a lot of time praying, fasting, and visiting the temple, and she got an answer that marrying him was the thing she needed to do.

Dalton is a great guy, so we couldn't be happier. He even came and asked Husband and me for our permission before he made his surprise proposal plans, and he was so sincere and sweet. I found out later that he was so nervous about talking to us that he just about vomited, but he was very open with us during our interrogation interview. Even Husband was impressed, which is saying something. Husband asked Dalton a lot of tough questions to make him sweat a little, but we already liked him, so the interview was pretty much a formality.

The wedding will be in August. The venue is booked and Elannah has chosen her wedding colors.

It's on.

The Symphony of People

 My new principal and I are finding our rhythm, and the new faculty are meshing very nicely together, so work is as pleasant as it has ever been, even if I sometimes miss people who have moved away and moved on. 

The school district is building a new high school in our burg, which will make two high schools for the town instead of just the one we currently have. There are high schools located in each of the three major towns in our valley, but population in all three of the towns (as well as the even more rural townlets) has been exploding for about three years now with no sign of letting up. New homes and apartment complexes are sprouting like mushrooms where there were once pastures and fields, and traffic has become nightmarish on the main streets during rush hour; the influx of new cars and drivers has far outpaced any city planning efforts to provide adequate alternate routes to reduce the burden on the main thoroughfares, though it's still nothing like The Big City. Yet. 

The new high school will siphon off students from our high school and the one in the next town, and I'm fascinated to see what it will do to the demographic of our current high school, whose boundaries are pretty much land-locked from new residential construction. The construction of the new high school will also mean the construction of a new seminary building, which has interesting implications. The new seminary will face the new temple that is under construction a few blocks away. Wouldn't that be a grand view to have at work every day? Plus, Husband works at the elementary school nearest the new high school, so we could, conceivably, have lunch together sometimes if I were to end up at the new seminary.

But all that is still a year or so away at this point. There have not been any mentions (to me, at least) of what my employer may decide about who will staff the new seminary. I'm not very fussed about it anyway. Stay or leave, I will be fine.

A student kept me late after work yesterday because of some angst-driven questions he wanted to pose to me. I would have shooed him out much earlier except that this seemed like one of those conversations that would mean something significant to him and needed to happen. Since I didn't have to leave right away, and because the principal was also able to stay in the building, I allowed it.

He struggled to put into words what he was wondering in his heart.

"Do you think we are replaceable?" he asked, a little hitch in his voice.

"What do you mean?" I said. "Say more about that."

He screwed up his face while he thought a bit, and because his face was flushed, I could tell he was asking something that was making him feel vulnerable and a little emotional.

"I mean, are we really each unique? Wouldn't you find tons of people like me anywhere?"

"Are you asking if we are replaceable as part of a group? Like just one of many in a crowd? Or are you asking if you or I have such especially unique qualities that the lack of any one of us would be felt in the world?"

It was the latter question he wanted to have answered. My heart felt for him. What teenager with any ounce of self-reflection does not ask him- or herself those questions (I know I did): Am I really anything special? Would the fact that I didn't exist make any difference? I can't imagine there is anything particularly special about me, so aren't I just...replaceable?

This kid is not depressed or suicidal, but he does have the normal amount of angsty teen self-doubt. I'm sure something must have happened amongst his friend group to cause him to worry about this right now, though he didn't tell me what, and I didn't ask. He seemed just emotional enough that me asking might cause him to cry and embarrass himself.

I always pray that the Lord will just put words into my mouth when I'm talking to students because I never want to prattle on and on without offering any insights or help. Teens are generally self-absorbed enough to be mostly only interested in delving into their own psyches, not anyone else's, such as mine. As an older adult, I accept that I am not viewed as particularly fascinating by the youngsters except in the way I am willing to listen to them talk about themselves and take them seriously. Most teens have yet to challenge their childish belief that we adults simply pop into existence, fully formed, the moment they happen to need something from us, that we have no pasts as children, teens, or young adults, that we have no relevant or interesting adventures or insights to share. I find that amusing because I remember thinking like that when I was young.

I'm sometimes very surprised by what comes out of my mouth during these conversations, but I know it's not me being in any way brilliant. The Lord brings things to mind as I'm talking (talking as briefly as possible, hopefully), and suddenly I am pulling in scripture and words of the prophets--things I've studied and pondered myself--during our conversations and making connections I wouldn't necessarily have put together under pressure except in situations like these. 

I won't bore you with the details of the rest of this conversation (it lasted a good hour), and I know that I didn't fully convince him that he is precious and unique and that his Heavenly Father is very ready to tell him so when he makes up his mind to ask earnestly and then listen. He will have to feel like he is worth enough to ask God to tell him if he is worth enough, which might take a bit. But he did listen to me, and I listened to him, and perhaps knowing he is heard will be enough to get him through until our next conversation. I obviously pointed him toward his parents, as well. Sometimes talking to a non-parent adult adds a little layer of insulation between a kid and his feelings, but I always want kids to find a reason to confide in their parents to any degree they can. 

Today I had a completely different kind of conversation with another student, a young woman with whom I have become good friends but who had to drop seminary this semester in favor of academic courses so that she would have enough credits to graduate this year. She told me that she had dropped her friend group for the most part because they didn't go to classes or do their homework or care about any of it, and when she hung out with them, that's what she did, too. She made the decision to earn her diploma, so she decided she had to make a break with them so she could accomplish her goals. 

She impressed me even more during our conversation. She is not a baptized member of our church, though her aunt brought her to church since she was little, and she did attend seminary for multiple semesters. She is a Christian, she said, and she worships Jesus Christ as the only way to salvation. She is disappointed in Christians of any denomination who think they merely need to check off some boxes to prove their worthiness for heaven but also feel the need to denigrate and condemn to hell any person who does not adhere to their particular brand of Christianity. She just wants everyone to look to Christ for salvation, not to box-checking or mere external rule-following. She hopes all of us Christians can someday find our common ground and band together as brothers and sisters, lifting each other up instead of tearing each other down as the world becomes more and more opposed to Christ. 

Wow! She is a light on a hill, that one. Love that girl. I was so glad she dropped by to see me today.

Now it is time to make dinner and hang out with my husband, children, and grandchildren. I have a wonderful life. 

(One last point of wonder: the youngest member of our faculty, Michael, and I were talking at lunch about writing, which is something he loves to do. We both said at the same time, "I love the Oxford comma!" Happy sigh. Oxford comma fans of the world, unite!)

England Trip Recap

 The two best purchases we made in the U.K. were a super-king-size duvet and duvet cover and a couple coats--all of which we managed to bring back to the U.S., even if it meant leaving some things behind in order to make room in our luggage (bath towels, a pair of my shoes that were pretty worn anyway, toiletries that are easily replaced). Worth it. It's amazing how much stuff you can pack into a couple carry-ons and a suitcase when you use vacuum bags.

The trip to England was fantastic. I had so much fun! The cottage we rented was well-equipped and comfortable, almost all of Husband's siblings and parents were around at all times, and we all got along very well. Best of all, my MIL was feeling well enough during the trip to accompany the rest of us on many of our day trips to various towns and villages, including on our trip to Wales to visit the family's old stomping grounds in Pencoed. 

I won't bore you with all the details. Here are some pictures instead. 

MIL and the twins in the high street in Bradford-upon-Avon.

Looking up the hill in Bradford-on-Avon. To the left of the bridge that spans the Avon River, you can see the spire of the town cathedral. At the top of the hill, you can barely make out the tiny Norman church we climbed up to see.

Sign outside one of the bakeries in Bradford. The price for a custard slice got a little steep since the last time I was in England.

If the building doesn't look like it's about to fall down, you're entering something built after the 1500s, and what's the fun in that?

Bradford on Avon from the top of the hill, which was an exhausting climb. We trudged up endless steep cobbled lanes to a tiny, ancient Norman church built of stone to get these pictures. The interior of the church was about the size of a large master bedroom, so we stepped in and took some photos there, too. After we had carefully navigated the steep streets back down to the town center, one of Husband's brothers realized he had left his European man bag (murse?) in the church, and it contained his car keys, the key to our rental house, his phone, and his wallet. He took off running back up the hill and made it into the church, desperately huffing and puffing, just as two women were going through the bag to try and figure out whose it was. They didn't appear to be trying to steal anything, but he never removed his bag from his shoulder after that. I couldn't even tease him about his European man bag because it was made of quality leather, and he made it look very fashionable.

In Bradford, we visited a tiny little book store on the high street. We asked the proprietor if we could see his used books, and he directed us through the a dark hallway to the back door and up here (see above video). I found a 1946 set of The Forsyte Saga trilogy, by John Galsworthy, and a little leather-bound edition of Hard Times, by Charles Dickens. Neither of these editions is worth much (the trilogy was £5 and the Dickens was £2.50), but I love the books themselves, so I was happy to bring them home. 

King Alfred's Kitchen on the high street in Shaftesbury. King Alfred built an abbey in Shaftesbury in 888 A.D., so the town does play up the connection to one of England's most famous kings.

Shaftesbury high street

Shaftesbury cathedral on the left

Behind the cathedral in the above photos is a place commonly called Hovis Hill, though its real name is Gold Hill. Hovis is actually a brand of bread, and the Hovis Bread company filmed what became a very iconic commercial on this hill in 1973, which was directed by Ridley Scott (everyone has to start somewhere!). 

I started calling this group the Barbour shop quartet. Left to right: Brad (Husband's next youngest brother), Matt (Daniel's twin), FIL, and Daniel (Matt's twin). The running joke throughout the week was that Daniel, who loves a particular style of coat made by Barbour, managed to convince the other three to buy similar coats, despite the eyebrow-raising price (I think Brad bought his in Bath earlier in the week for nearly £200, or around $240 with the recent conversion rates). Barbour produces high-quality waxed jackets, whose outer canvas layer is infused with a layer of wax in order to repel water--useful in a very wet climate like England's or Indiana's (I wore one during my mission, and it was very good at keeping me dry). It's a sensible purchase, though you kind of end up looking like a wealthy farmer--especially coupled with a flat cap like Brad is wearing. We told Brad all he needed now was a shotgun over his arm and some big black wellies (galoshes), and he'd be set. Anyway, on this day, we ended up making two separate visits to the Barbour store on the high street in Shaftesbury, and both Matt and FIL made their own purchases. Husband was tempted by the family peer pressure, but I reminded him that we live in a desert with very little rain, whereas his brothers and father live in far wetter climates. Husband came to his senses and bought a SuperDry coat instead that he found later in the week at an outlet mall for a much, much better price of £35 (about $40).

Husband snapped this pic and told me that he was now re-thinking his life. What it actually means is that drivers should be aware of a change in traffic direction ahead. 

Bath Cathedral. All buildings in Bath are required to be built in this yellowish Bath stone. Even new buildings in the town center have a facade of this stone so that everything looks cohesive.

Bath street with double-decker buses. The red one is a tourist bus with open-air seating on the top level. The weather that day alternated between overcast but chilly and rainy and chilly--not a good day to be riding around in the open, though we walked everywhere. 

The Sally Lunn house is purported to be the oldest house still standing in Bath. 

The above video shows a tiny little square we visited before going into the Bath Sweet Shop, where I bought some Parma Violets on sale for 50p each. The shop itself was so shallow that there was barely enough room for us to come in off the street and stand in front of the counter.

Pulteney Bridge spans the Avon River and has shops built into it the full length. You can see that some of the windows have been bricked in. Brad explained that in the 1690s, King William III decided to raise money by taxing the number of windows in a house, so people started boarding up and bricking in excess windows. This is when the phrase "daylight robbery" originated, since the king was literally robbing the people of the chance to have daylight in their dwellings.

I just loved the name of this restaurant, though it made me remember nearly biting into a slug while eating a salad from our garden when I was a teen--and I had washed the lettuce thoroughly! 10/10 wouldn't eat here for that reason alone.

The high street in Marlborough. This was my least favorite visit as it was a Saturday, the town center was packed, and the weather was more unpleasant than usual. Also, we were all hungry, and there was no place to eat--or the places had shut down for the afternoon.

The nice thing about visiting Marlborough was that we met up with Husband's oldest brother, Warren, his wife, and his two sons, whom I had never met. Left to right: Husband, Toby (Matt's oldest son), Brad, Matt, Daniel, Ronan (Warren's youngest), Corie (Warren's oldest), Julianne (Warren's wife), Warren, MIL, and FIL

Pencoed, Wales, town centre. In Wales, all signs are written in Welsh first and then English.

The fateful roundabout in Pencoed where Husband and Brad were knocked off their bike by a car when Husband was 11 and Brad was 9. Brad's knee was dislocated, and Husband's femur snapped. He was rushed to the hospital, where he was put in traction. He was in so much pain, but the doctors kept telling him to just deal with it until his mother stepped in and demanded another x-ray based on the fact that Husband is not a whiner about pain. The x-ray showed that some tissue had become caught in between the jagged ends of his femur bone. A quick surgery fixed the problem, and Husband was able to heal properly after that, though the long hospital stay while he was in traction was boring beyond belief.

Overlooking the pool at the leisure center where Husband, Brad, and Warren spent hours and hours as kids practicing with their team, the Pencoed Pirates. There is "good" old and "shabby" old in Britain. This building was shabby old, as many places seem to be. Still, the nostalgia for Husband and his brothers was strong.

Ogmore Castle ruins in Wales. Husband's family made many visits to Ogmore Castle and Ogmore Beach during their growing up years. 

Husband on the Ogmore Castle ruins. 

27 years ago, on the lawn inside this wall, our oldest daughter, Siân, who had just turned 1 year old, said the word "flower" for the first time. She had just toddled over to pick a daisy from the grass. We were all properly amazed. It was a little surreal to be in the same spot remembering that moment now that Siân has two little children of her own, with one on the way. At the time of this picture, it was flooding in many parts of Wales and Southern England due to heavy rains (that river in the background is flooded over its banks). The moat that originally surrounded this castle was filled with water, which Husband and his siblings had never seen before.

Ogmore Beach, looking south to the estuary of the Ewenny River that runs along the coast and empties into the Atlantic Ocean. This was one of the favorite spots for Husband's family to spend time in the summer. 

Group shot at Ogmore Beach. Left to right: Tiffany (Husband's only sister), Derek (Tiff's husband), Daniel, FIL, Matt, MIL, Brad, Husband, and Benjamin (the youngest of the siblings). It was an incredibly windy, cold day. I run pretty warm, but even I had to button up my coat against the gale-force winds coming off the ocean.

When you go to England, you make a special effort to sample as many of the delicious cheeses as you can.

The gang at Gregg's Bakery at a MacArthur Glen outlet mall in Wales on our way back to England. We had already consumed our pasties and sausage rolls, exhausted after a long day of driving, walking, and shopping. 

A full English breakfast, though it's missing the fried tomatoes. You've got a rasher of bacon, sausage, potato wedge, beans, fried bread, mushroom, and a fried egg. 

Everyone enjoying a full English breakfast at a Toby Carvery restaurant. From left to right: Daniel, Matt, and Husband.

Toby Carvery. From left to right: Brad, Benjamin, and Daniel.

Spotted this monstrosity at the grocery store. Peanut butter in England is not sweet like it is in the U.S., so it is considered a savory food. Most Brits would gag at the thought of pairing peanut butter with jam in a sandwich, so I guess this pairing makes sense in a horrible, nightmarish way.

The main living room of the Mews Cottage in Trowle, England, where we stayed for the week. It was a lovely place to stay, with five bedrooms (it could sleep fifteen people), two bathrooms, two living rooms (with a little alcove with a pullout couch in the small living room), and a large kitchen. The back garden was also lovely, though we never got to enjoy it due to the weather.

Husband's family (almost) all together for the first time in 30 years, minus Warren (Brad is holding up his phone with a picture of Warren). Left to right, front row: Daniel, FIL, MIL, Tiffany. Back row: Husband, Brad, Matt, and Benjamin.

MIL with Tiffany's children. Left to right: Kimmy, Abby, Eleanor, James, and Luke.

Warren's rebaptism. His father baptized him. I was not able to attend this because of some car troubles, but Daniel sang, Matt spoke, and Husband gave his mother a powerful blessing after the ceremony.

FIL and MIL. I love this photo because it captures FIL's wry humor and MIL's love and adoration for her husband. 

It was a lovely trip, and, like I said, MIL had some very good days and was able to join us on our adventures (not all of which I have documented here, you're welcome). Unfortunately, since that time, MIL has not done well. She recently had a colostomy bag installed because the tumor has wrapped around her bowels and stopped their ability to operate, and she is in constant, debilitating pain. The chemo has stopped the tumor from growing, but it is also very hard on MIL's health. She is considering stopping the treatment at this point, though she has faith and hope for what she will enjoy in the next life. In fact, she is currently sharing some powerful stories of faith on a Zoom call with her children. She is a force for good in this life and will be a force for good in the next world.