Dreams of Home

As we prepare for our first week of proper classes at Duke Divinity School, though filled with excitement and anticipation, Debs & I are all too aware this weekend of what we are missing at home. Ten years ago we were married on the main stage of Greenbelt Festival, a place we like to think of as our spiritual home. In the ever shifting sands of life it's a static point that has never ceased to move us, and move us forward in our journey of trying to follow that still small voice of God. I first went to Greenbelt in 92, (Debs in 96) and this is the first year since those dates that either of us has not been there. Could they possibly have known when they titled this year’s festival ‘Dreams of Home’ what it would mean to us at this time? Perhaps, perhaps not, but as usual somebody did. God knew how these words would resonate with us, not just in the physical distance between there and here, not just in the sentimental feelings of longing for the familiar, but also in that deeper question that goes the very heart of our identities; what is it that we call home? Who or what do we need around us before we can feel like we are in a safe place?

Home is about point zero, our starting point at the beginning of life or the beginning of this day. It is our sense of where the centre is and our relation to that centre in the here and now, both in a physical way and in every other way. Moving home physically can be tough enough but moving our hearts to a new understanding can be a tectonic experience. Today we heard about Duke Divinity School’s passion for diversity.  The challenge was that we need not just to listen to others but be able to enter into a dialogue with them; to come to the table with the openness to listen and even be changed by what we hear.

Dreams of home are not just memories, they are also aspirations. They are the dreams we have of what Heaven could be; they are what we mean when we utter those words ‘your kingdom come, your will be done.’ As I move towards a life of itinerant ministry, this journey to the far side of the Atlantic Ocean has brought into perspective, perhaps more than any other journey, my need for us to carry heaven with us where ever we go, not just for the benefit of others but for the survival of our innermost beings. I do not need to be at Greenbelt to bring the spirit of Greenbelt to this place. I do not need to be in the familiar surroundings of the British Methodist Church to bring all that is good about British Methodism to this place.  I do not need the BBC, though that is one area I am still struggling with. Most of all I do not need to be anywhere in particular in order to be Christ to a stranger, or to allow a stranger to be Christ to me.

Pete B

You know you're in America when...

(No 3) You can get chicken... in a biscuit!

Finding our way around

Our first couple of days here were spent mostly noticing things that were different from home.  The way the traffic doesn’t actually all stop when the green man says it’s your turn to cross the road, the enormous butterflies, the fact that tax is added on afterwards to food and drink so it’s no good trying to get the right money ready, amongst others.  I find it amazing that after a week or so these things have become quite normal.  We’re not locals yet but we’re settling in fast.

During the last week we have been part of International student orientation; meeting students from all over the world who are beginning their courses at Duke this year.  Some of them have come on from other Universities in the States but for many it is their first taste of America.  My favourite moment came when we were all gathered together in the big science auditorium and the head of International house called out the names of countries represented by new students.  When your country was called, you had to stand up and wave and everybody clapped.  When our turn came to stand up, we could only see one other person standing, Henri from South London, who we had met the day before at the Visa office. It sounds corny but there was a real atmosphere of excitement and welcome.  After this part of the orientation we were immediately accosted by a young man from Italy who was desperate to know if we’d brought any Marmite with us, as it was his favourite and it can’t be obtained over here.  Alas not.

Many of the students we met were from China and when we said we were from England their first comment was, “ah yes, Harry Potter”.  When we told them that we lived moments from the cathedral where some of Harry Potter was filmed, their excitement grew.  So you can imagine the delight on their faces, when Pete showed them pictures on his phone taken from the top of the cathedral which show the cloisters.  We then had to spend the next few minutes making sure they understood that it was Durham cathedral, not Hogwarts.

Debs B

You know you're in America when...

(No. 2) You can buy cut price cassocks in the mall.

Miracles

The miraculous needs be neither instantaneous nor impossible. It can instead be both long awaited and beautiful. It seems like the right time to start writing about this journey that Debs and I have embarked upon as I sit in our garage apartment in Durham NC reflecting, during a rare moment where nothing needs to be done for now, on the distance we have already come and the distance we have still to travel. We started out from Durham UK at 8 in the morning yesterday and arrived the city with the very same name some twenty hours and over 4,000 miles later, having seen the Eiffel Tower, The Empire State building and ice flows on the southern tip of Greenland. North Carolina in August feels, to us English folk, like a hot bath. But every building is fitted with air conditioning so going indoors feels like going outdoors would back home. The preparation to get to this point has been complex and somewhat stressful but for this moment at least it feels like we’re on holiday. Next comes the journey of learning in many ways and about many things. It certainly feels like a miracle that we have made it this far.

Pete B

You know you’re in America when...

(No.1) your Sunday roast fits in the door of your fridge