Brooke and I headed North. North to the Lake District. I had read of mountains and lakes. I left to find them. It was a weekend of walking and unveiling the England I had been dreaming of: green pastures full of sheep, mountain cottages, stone walls still standing from long ago, and charming towns full of history and good pubs. It rained...and rained...but it was nothing a good pair of hiking boots and a raincoat couldn't handle. We stayed at a hostel just outside of Ambleside on Lake Windermere, England's largest lake. Friday was an incredible day. We rose early and watched the sun break through the fog. Swans welcomed the morning and floated gracefully through the mist. It looked exactly like the last act of Swan lake, when all the swans rise up out of the fog after Odette jumps off the cliff. Cue the Tchaikovsky. It was pure magic.
We grabbed some coffee and headed towards the hills. We walked through Ambleside towards the 60ft waterfall of Stock Ghyll Force. Then, through a farmer's pasture via a broken stone wall and up the path towards the top of Wansfell Peak. The English Mountains are mostly free to roam and very accessible. Open pathways lead through private property and can get you just about anywhere. That was a dream come true for this wandering spirit.
We peaked in the fog and took some time for it to clear before heading down towards the small village of Troutbeck. We wandered into the Mortal Man Inn and Pub. They've been serving drinks and welcoming fell-walkers since the 1600s! After sitting by the fire and drinking a pot of tea, we headed on towards Townend, Skelghyll Wood, and Jenkin's Crag. I was almost in tears with how charming and old and wonderful and dreamy the cottages and countryside were.
Brooke's goal for the weekend was to hug a sheep. Yep, she wanted to full-on embrace one of those cute, woolly things. She got close...but they were always way more interested in eating grass.
As we were walking towards Skelghyll Wood, we came across a lonely sheep on the path between two stone walls. It was obviously lost and separated from the herd. This was Brooke's chance! If any sheep needed a hug, it was this little guy. But as we approached it, we were disgusted to realize that this sheep had been attacked. His tail was missing and he had oozing, bloody injuries all over his backside. His ribs were broken and caved in and maggots had infested his wounds. We gasped and stood there, expecting this sheep to collapse at any moment. But rather, he kept munching on grass. He could barely walk, but he managed to make his way down the path looking for the next yummy thing to eat. He was dying but seemed oblivious to it! It was such a strange sight. We wanted to help, but didn't know how. We didn't have a way to lead him to the nearest village and we both knew that it was only a matter of time before it died. Just as I was losing hope in helping, another walker came around the bend. We stopped her and told her the situation. Luckily, she was headed towards Townend and would see if she could inform someone there. And so we left that poor sheep and walked on.
It became so obvious to me why the Bible refers to us, God's children, as sheep and to Jesus as the Great Shepherd. So often we find ourselves lost, injured, covered in mud and mire, consumed by darkness. We are helplessly searching for something to satisfy our stomachs, our eyes, our thoughts, our emotions. We just keep scouring the earth for something that will heal us. Others look at us and say that there's no hope for us. We're too messed up. But then there's Jesus. And he sees a lost sheep who is never too lost or hopeless. He rescues us from our dark infections and places us in green pastures and beside quiet waters. He restores our soul.
We walked on, pondering all of this.
After Jenkin's crag, the path led back to Ambleside. It had been a long day. We were tired and hungry, but happy. We were waiting to cross the street into town when an older women started talking to us. She greeted us and asked what we were coming from. She was interested in the fact that we were Americans. She started pouring out wisdom, about perspective and love. At this point, we were standing on the median in the middle of the street. I really enjoyed talking to her, but I just didn't understand why here and now. It was apparent to me that this was a divine appointment but I couldn't help but think how wierd the timing was(but then again, I rarely understand God's timing). So I asked her if we could continue talking over tea. We meandered to the nearest cafe and she insisted that it be her treat! Her name is June. Her and her family came to the Lake District every year to hike the fells. Well, now it's just her. But she still comes. She's hard of hearing but she loves people and wants to talk to everyone. She began to share with us her passion for sharing love. "The only thing that is going to save this doomed culture is love". I couldn't agree more, June! She asked me what I was studying in England, and when I told her dance, she said "Do you wonder sometimes if you aren't going to make it?" "Yes, I do, actually." "Well, I want to tell you something that I believe deeply: Thoughts can change matter." She told me to verbally proclaim that "I am a dancer" 3 times and then to laugh out loud. She believes that this personal affirmation changes perspective, which ultimately, changes reality.
My goal was to bless her, but she ultimately blessed me.
She left us with, "All my friends are dying, but I realized that I can make new friends!"
Well, now you have two more, June!
The day finished with a performance in the hostel by a large group of Indian school children. They joyfully and energetically performed Bollywood dances for us. It was a perfect finish to a perfect day.
Thanks, God.
No comments:
Post a Comment