Dear UCG,

By the time September draws to a close, you may be well and truly sick of hearing me talk about the learnings of my sabbatical. But it was a deeply needed time away for me and a life-shaping experience for our family, so I hope you’ll bear with me as I share, here, a few lessons from the first days of our family trip abroad.

Our adventure began when Fiona (our oldest) returned from the youth Work Tour, with a bag full of laundry and amazing chocolate and blueberry products from Koinonia Farms. We did said laundry, packed a million suitcases, and loaded up our van for Chicago. We left our home in Gainesville in the capable hands of Brian and David Martin, and our dog in Chicago in the capable and loving hands of my mother. Cuddles always enjoys her time spent with my mom’s greyhounds, Sophie and Nigel.

We, too, enjoyed a few days with my mom (celebrating her 70th birthday!) and sisters and their spouses and “the cousins.” But then, inexplicably, our flight to the UK was canceled. “Computer network issues.” It was a British Airways flight that I had booked through their partner American, a straight-forward non-decision at the time that proved deeply frustrating. Though I spent hours on customer service phone calls, and online chats, downloaded both airlines’ apps: no one could explain what happened. Moreover, both airlines told me repeatedly that it was the other’s fault; that I would have to deal with them. Ultimately, there wasn’t room for the five of us on another flight for two more days. 

We’d booked an AirBnB that was still waiting for us when we arrived, and our trip was ultimately just shorter than we’d planned. We had to manage disappointment and change our plans, and the fam did so with grace — but there was still a cost. A cost no one wanted to claim, and a cost borne by our family. 

I’d contrast that experience with the one we had on arrival at our flat in London. The owner was friendly, though everything was a little more beaten down than we anticipated. (That sofa bed was aged and not to be slept on). Still the location was amazing, and everything was clean, and the jet lag was manageable. When we tried the shower, however, there was no hot water. I instantly flashed back to my first day in my London flat as a student studying abroad 25 (!) years ago, and another frigid shower. The school had turned off the hot water heater over the winter break and not remembered to turn it back on. Assuming something similar had occurred and not wanting to break anything, I texted the flat owner for instruction. She walked me through how to check but to no avail. I felt really dumb. What was I missing?

Then her husband arrived and he, too, couldn’t get it working. It was a Sunday night and this did not qualify as an emergency so he left with an apology and a promise the plumber would come in the morning. The plumber came and, lo and behold, the boiler was dead. We’d be without hot water for at least another three days.

Our host, however, was so apologetic — even though it wasn’t really her fault. Boilers just die sometimes, especially in ancient Georgians — and worked hard to make it up to us. It wasn’t ideal, but it was fine. We managed. The boiler was replaced. We got a nice refund. 

Over the course of those days, with our increasingly erratic hair styles, we began to explore the city. So many things were familiar and so many were wildly different, but one of our most common realizations was that many things — especially food and beverages — were almost the same, but not. Superhero fans might say it was like Bizarro World. Dr. Pepper was available, but it wasn’t as sweet. McDonald’s was prevalent, but without trans fats, the food tasted very different. At first, some of the girls would try something they loved at home and decide it was “gross.”  Very quickly, we tried to establish the recognition that just because something was different, did not mean it was bad. 

This was one of the key things I wanted my kids to take away from this summer. I’ve mentioned before that we have no small amount of clinical anxiety at our house. And one of the biggest things that anxiety wants us to do is seize control of things. To insist on things being just so, or meeting some unarticulated expectation. To want the outfit to be just right. To want the happy meal to taste like it does at home. One way of responding to anxiety’s desire for control then, is to practice “exposure therapy” to change, or lack of control, and experiencing that it’s okay when things are different or don’t go the way you thought they would. 

All the sugar-free Dr. Pepper in the world won’t cure anxiety, but I was happy to see the whole family learning to say, “it’s not bad, it’s different.” There’s no moral judgment in trans-fat free chicken nuggets (if anything, they are waaaay better for you); it’s just different. 

I was reminded of this listening to Michelle Obama speaking at the Democratic National Convention last week. “We cannot get a Goldilocks complex about whether everything is just right,” she said. “And we cannot indulge our anxieties…”

We are in an anxious moment (or decade) as a country, and an anxious moment as a congregation. For many of us, things feel different than they were, or different than what we expect, or want. Some are better, and some are worse, and some are just different.  Sometimes we may feel the urge to exert control over things that aren’t ours to control. Learning to live together across differences, whether we’re trying to elect someone or simply be the church in a changing religious landscape, is hard work. An uphill battle, as Michelle Obama said. 

Still, I continue to hope that we can be the church God is calling us to be, learning together and growing in trust and love.

Grace and peace to you,

Bromleigh