The Week in Pictures

I've been doing so much walking this week and snapping random photos along the way that I have quite the bank of pictures stored up. If I don't share them now, I'm afraid I'll forget they exist!

The amount of tea I've had this week is a bit ridiculous.  And the amount of cake with that tea? Bordering on (no, definitely) unhealthy. But exploring London's glorious vintage tea rooms has been one of the best parts of this holiday. And I'm happy to say that I did make time for letter writing as I hoped to the other day.

 

Please look at that tea cozy. And at that chocolate orange cake...

I finally made it to Westminster Cathedral like I've been meaning to all year. I went for Good Friday mass, and I am so happy I did. Not only was the atmosphere of solemn beauty especially appropriate for Good Friday, but the people there were of the friendliest sort. As I waited in line for the Reverence of the Cross after mass, the older woman ahead of me noticed I was alone. So she and I struck up a very hushed conversation. It turns out she is from Ireland and was feeling rather alone too. God is good in even the smallest of ways, isn't He?

Kensington Palace on Easter Sunday

The many, many blooming daffodils outside Kensington Palace on Easter. Walking up Kensington High Street, through Kensington Gardens, and then through Knightsbridge to Gloucester Road was a lovely way to spend the afternoon. Statues of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, as well as Royal Albert Hall, pictured below.

I spent Tuesday walking through Belgravia and happened upon 65 Eaton Place, which after doing a little research, I confirmed was the model for 165 Eaton Place on the tv series "Upstairs Downstairs." So that was exciting haha.

Apple blossoms in Belgravia, near Sloane Square. So, so lovely.

Harrods, which is one of the scarier stores I've ever been in. While the food hall and the Egyptian rooms are incredible, I did feel rather as if I was going to break something by accident and be made to pay 700 pounds. I'm glad I've been in, but I'll probably never do it again!

The trees beginning to blossom on a street near home :)

Old Friends

Birthday party when we were about six.  I'm second from the left.  Old Friend (though they're all old friends really but I'm protecting her anonymity) is second from the right.

Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver

And the other gold

I remember singing the song above as a young child in Girl Scouts. And its meaning has never been as clear as it is now, far from home with a few new friends and lots of old ones.  

In college, I had my new college friends and my old childhood friends. Now I have a few new London friends and old college friends as well as old childhood friends. I'm learning that as I enter each new stage of life, my circle of old friends grows larger, and it seems to become more and more difficult to stay in touch.  

I have to admit that I have a bad tendency to focus so much on my life here in London that I neglect messages from old friends. Especially if the email or letter is particularly long and detailed, I push it off until I "can give it more attention." And then suddenly, it's been two months and I have never responded to a message or a letter from a dear old friend.  

But one of my best friends from childhood, whom I've known since age five and actually was in that Girl Scout troop with me, has just decided she is going to come visit me next month!! I don't deserve the generous gift of her visit; as our lives have moved in different directions, I have been particularly bad about keeping up with her. But she is happily willing to put aside her own life for a week, pay for an expensive and long journey, and make the trip out here to visit with me, and I could not be more grateful or more excited.  

She and I talked on the phone for almost an hour last night, and it's not just a saying: we really did pick up right where we left off. She and I have grown into very different people, and we may not be friends if we met each other today. But old friends are so, so special in their own way. Because she has seen me at my lowest points, she knows how to comfort me. Because she has been with me as my dreams have come true--she was the first person outside of my family I called when I got into Harvard--she knows what is important to me and how to support me. She brings a different perspective to the troubles of today because she was there with me for all the troubles of yesterday.  

So I have recommitted myself to prioritizing friendship in my life. Last year, in a senior reflection group at college, one of my classmates remarked that friends and family are the bedrock of any happy life. When your relationships are in a good place, you will be in a good place. When they are struggling, you will struggle. I think there is a lot of truth to that.  

I want to be better about responding to email and letters and messages. I want to take the time out of my day to write letters and make phone calls. Old friends are too precious to lose, and I am so happy to have been reminded. Go ahead and reach out to an old friend today.  It doesn't matter how long it has been since you last spoke.  There will always be more than enough to say to each other.

Someone's 7th birthday party.  I have my hand under my chin, and Old Friend is next to me making a face.

High school graduation.  I'm on the left, and Old Friend is on the right.  Our other dear old friend is in the middle.

The three of us now!  Summer 2014.

'Please'

There is so much that God does and so much beauty He creates that pleases me.  Now how can I please Him?

'I try to act solely to please our Lord.'

St. Thérèse of Lisieux

While reading some more of St. Thérèse of Lisieux's thoughts last night, I was struck by the number of times she mentioned her wish to please God. Of course, I hope we all wish to please God on some level.  But St. Thérèse wrote of actively looking for ways to please God in daily life.  She walked around asking herself, 'What can I do, whom can I serve, what can I give in this moment that will please God?' (my paraphrase, not her words).

So as I prayed before bed, I asked God to help me be more mindful during the day.  I don't want to just think about how to please God in theory; I want it to be a real part of daily life.  I want to stop and ask myself, 'Will this choice please God?'

But in order to do that, I need to better understand what it means 'to please.'  So lover of language that I am, I puzzled over the meanings and etymology of 'please' as I laid awake trying to sleep. Hang in there with me--I promise that all the parsing of language coming up has a point.

As far as I can tell, there are two distinct but related definitions and usages of 'please':

1. Adverb used in polite requests or questions, as in 'Would you pass the salt, please?'
2. Verb meaning to cause happiness and pleasure, as in 'Music pleases me.'

Something I had never before considered but that makes complete sense now is that 'please' must be etymologically related to 'pleasure'.  Indeed, 'please' is a shortened version of the once-oft-used phrase 'if you please,' which uses the verb form of 'please.' Using that phrase instead of the adverb 'please,' we come up with this request: 'If you please, would you pass the salt?' Written this way, the request seems to open up to us a whole new meaning; the asker implies that there is some sort of pleasure involved in granting a request.  

Now, the way the above question is phrased makes the request conditional...the second person does not have to pass the salt if it will not give him pleasure to do so. But here is my point: I think helping and giving should always give pleasure.  And once I stumbled upon that truth, I realized that I can best please God by giving to others...by anticipating requests before they're made and filling them joyfully. I want to take pleasure in the filling of requests and needs, both spoken and unspoken. 

So today, I am asking myself whether I give joyfully, willingly, generously, happily. Can I challenge myself to take pleasure in giving my time, talent, and treasure even when I don't think I want to? Even when it would be awkward or uncomfortable or inconvenient to give the homeless man on the corner some spare change? Even when I really want to sleep, but a friend needs to talk? When someone annoys or offends me, can I joyfully give her the benefit of the doubt and try to see her good intention? When a colleague asks me to do more tedious proofreading because it is one of my strengths, can I take pleasure in the task, knowing that it will help her?  If you please, would you, reader, join me on this quest?? :)  

St. Thérèse quotation taken from The Little Way of St Thérèse of Lisieux: In her own words published by the Catholic Truth Society.

Tuesday Teatime: Springtime

Hello everyone!  So...here's something new.  Although it scares me a bit, I've recorded a video in response to Clare's (sweetwakings@blogspot.com) Tuesday Teatime question. I LOVE this idea, and I'm so glad Clare decided to do it again!! It's a little virtual community of likeminded women talking about a different subject each week.  The idea is that it'll be sort of like a group of friends gathered around a table and chatting over tea.  So, without further ado, my contribution:

Little Annoyances

Salisbury Cathedral

I'm going to tell you a story that doesn't exactly put me in the best light.  But there is a good reason I want to tell you, so I hope it doesn't alter your opinion of me too much!

One of my biggest pet peeves (along with getting stuck behind a tourist or other slow walker) is feeling that my personal space is invaded.  It's one thing if there's a crowd; then I expect to feel, well, crowded.  But when there's plenty of room on the train platform, and someone is standing so close to me that I can feel him or her jostling my purse, that gets under my skin. 

On Friday evening, I went to hear one of my friends sing in a chamber choir concert. And much to my dismay at the time and my embarrassment now, I was so distracted by a little annoyance that I didn't pay much attention to their main piece, the Magnificat cum Angelis. What was the little annoyance, you ask? The woman sitting next to me was sitting too close.  Anytime I moved my arm, it bumped into hers. If there had been no room in the church, I would have understood. But there were plenty of pews, and what annoyed me the most was that she was sitting so close to me because her bag was on the seat next to her. If she had put the bag on the floor, there would have been a little more breathing room for everyone. So instead of listening to the inspiring Magnificat, I was sitting there thinking selfish, unkind thoughts. I'll even admit that once or twice, I passive aggressively shifted in my seat and gave a pointed look at the bag next to her...I don't think she got my hint.

It's funny how God uses these moments when we're not at our best to teach us something important. While praying this weekend, I picked up a book on St. Therese that I hadn't touched in awhile. Opening it to the next section, I found this anecdote of hers:

Hidden Sacrifices
For a long time my place at meditation was near a Sister who fidgeted incessantly, either with her rosary or with something else. Possibly I alone heard her because of my very sensitive ear, but I cannot tell you to what extent I was tried by the irritating noise. There was a strong temptation to turn round and with one glance silence the offender; yet in my heart I knew I ought to bear with her patiently, for the love of God first of all, and also to avoid causing her pain.  I therefore remained quiet, but the effort cost me so much that sometimes I was bathed in perspiration, and my meditation consisted merely in the prayer of suffering.  Finally, I sought a way of gaining peace, in my inmost heart at least, and so I tried to find pleasure in the disagreeable noise.  Instead of trying not to hear it, I set myself to listen attentively as though it were delightful music, and my meditation--which was not the prayer of quiet--was passed in offering this music to God.

Wow.  Point taken, Lord.  So this week, I've resolved to take a page from St. Therese's book and bear any little annoyances as patiently and lovingly as I can.  Rather than let myself fill with negativity, I'll fill myself with love.  And offering up my suffering, even such small, seemingly insignificant suffering, will turn my annoyance into a prayer.  Will you join me?

Prayer of St. Patrick

An embroidered 'saint cushion' in the chapel at Salisbury Cathedral, which I visited a couple of weekends ago.  (More on that to come eventually!)

I have no idea if these are words that St. Patrick actually wrote or spoke, but I love the message in any case. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven;

Light of the sun,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of the wind,

Depth of the sea,

Stability of the earth,

Firmness of the rock.

I arise today

Through God's strength to pilot me;

God's might to uphold me,

God's wisdom to guide me,

God's eye to look before me,

God's ear to hear me,

God's word to speak for me,

God's hand to guard me,

God's way to lie before me,

God's shield to protect me,

God's hosts to save me

Afar and anear,

Alone or in a multitude.

Christ shield me

Against wounding

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,

Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ on my right, Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in the eye that sees me,

Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today

Through the mighty strength

Of the Lord of creation.

Spring has sprung!

"Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like?"...

"It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine..."

Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Used to Boston winters, which last FOR-EV-ER, I assumed that the warmer weather and flowers blooming here in London were a fluke.  The cold weather would come back and freeze every blossom that had dared show its head.  But when everyone around me started talking about spring, I realized that spring actually does come in early March in London...