I enjoyed visiting Windsor Castle and St. George’s Chapel very much. Oh, by the way, if these posts are coming at an annoyingly fast rate, please just skip over. Amazingly enough, there are some people looking forward to these updates. Like two, I think. Two people.

Well we made it back to the Gatwick airport, where Jeff is working, all in one piece. There was just one tiny mishap getting on a train at the last minute. But it’s almost not worth mentioning that I tripped over our stroller and ended up with a bit of sandwich in my hair. It wasn’t my sandwich. Poor, appalled, nice British man encounters gawky, clutzy American girl chomping bubble gum and yelling, “can we push on? Can we push on please?” What does that EVEN MEAN?!

I had hopes of touring Westminster Abbey today, but Justin is not up to it. He had to take a large dose of methotrexate yesterday so he’s tired and not feeling well.

We are camped out in our hotel room with a yummy snack I discovered. English cheese and chutney, whatever that is.

Justin is watching British cartoons and I’m mostly thinking/praying with a weighted heart for my sister-in-law and friend, Melissa Franklin. Love and grace be with you both.

Photo Commentary

Top row: The exterior of Windsor Castle. The building itself covers thirteen acres of ground, set in a lovely English town, slower paced and more traditional than London, which, aside from architecture dating back to the 11th century, is largely modernized and very busy. The town of Windsor was cobblestone streets and brick buildings, small shops and cozy taverns. And an enormous castle.

Second Row: A garden built in the place where a moat originally existed around the largest castle tower. Getting up close but not too personal with a member of the queen’s guards. Recalling what the policeman told me the night before, I behaved myself. Also the sanctuary of St. George’s chapel. There were many royal tombs inside, most notable to me being Henry VIII and one of his wives, Jane Seymour. (I remember learning about that crazy King and all those wives in History class)

Third Row: Beautiful architectural and artistic detailing in the walls and stained-glass windows of the Chapel.

Fourth Row: Grand entrance to the castle state rooms. Authentic suits of armor and the many paintings of Kings and Dukes. Just a neat fact, the queen possesses many drawings done by da Vinci, Raphael, and Rembrandt, located in the Royal library at Windsor Castle. But this, unfortunately, is not part of the public access tour. The castle is so enormous that their is an entire area called the Upper Ward, closed to the public, which inhabits many people, including the queen on weekends or whenever it suits her fancy.

Fifth Row: The king’s bedchamber and queen’s drawing room. The gold framed people looking down at me started to get a little creepy at this point.

Bottom row: I think that was a ballroom or some kind of important place. Knight Justin, of course. And several gowns worn by her majesty herself. There was a special exhibit called, “Fashioning a Reign”, which displayed many frocks worn by the queen, sorted according to time period as well as pictures and such of her wearing the various pieces. It was okay if you’re into that sort of thing. But I just kept thinking about this one diamond-studded gown which could feed a small country. Seemed like such a waste just hanging there being gawked at, catching dust.

Just a closing thought. The castle was grand indeed. But nothing in comparison to the “eternal weight of glory” that awaits those who put their faith in Christ Jesus by grace alone. 

Now I always thought Buckingham Palace looked so impressive on TV, but in person it’s kind of a strange juxtaposition. A huge palace inlaid with gold trim in the middle of smelly, busy, touristy central London.

King Justin is pictured standing in front of the Queen Victoria Memorial. Very large and well…kinda tacky. (Sorry)

Replacing the traditional queen’s guards at the front gate are policeman with really big guns. You can get a glimpse of the red coats and tall, furry hats positioned in front of the palace, motionless except for periodically walking back and forth like toy soldiers. (If you look closely, you can see pictured above)

I approached a policeman to ask if I could snap a photo. He said, “you’re going to need to step back, miss.”

Oops.

Then he good-naturedly struck a militant pose. I asked him why the queen’s guards no longer stand at the gate. He explained that they were moved from public access because so many people were trying to make them laugh and it wasn’t safe, especially in “today’s world climate.”

Right.

Justin and I are on a southbound train for Windsor in Berkshire to visit the largest inhabited castle in the world. It is the queen’s preferred weekend home and the burial place of Henry VIII located in St. George’s chapel.

The fast-paced, overcrowded train platforms are a little intimidating, and we have to change trains at one point. But as I navigate myself and Justin around this little journey, I am reminded that one of the top neurologists in the world at the Cleveland Clinic told me to plan on never again walking more than twenty feet by myself. Well she was clearly overlooking the power of prayer, sovereignty of God and my plain, old stubbornness.

Grace be with you, my friends.

From left to right: 1. Me and Big Ben 2. Statue of Winston Churchill in Parliament Square 3. Infamous British phone booth 4. London Tower 5. Justin gets his hot dog (Me too…yum. I also bought caramel peanuts, being cooked right on the street. Also yum. And I really fancied the part when the vendor accepted my two pounds with a “Thank ya, love.”) 6. Walking across Tower Bridge 7. Side of London Tower, the “crosses” are spaces to shoot arrows (Jeff shared this bit of trivia but I haven’t fact checked him yet) 8. Sun setting over Thames River 9. Closer to a tower on Tower Bridge 10. Me and Jus pose for a pic on the bridge 11.  Justin is becoming a pro at riding “the tube” (two proper British gentleman gave up their seats for me and Jus. Jeff and I noted that wouldn’t happen in Philly)

Train Conversing to London 

I made a new friend. An obviously anxious, but very kind fellow. We shared a “table” with him so naturally I offered him a piece of my Trident bubble gum as I passed it out to Jeff and Justin.

“Is that an American sweet then?” he asked. Think heavy British accent.

I smiled. “Yes.”

With a nervous laugh and a sort of shocked expression, he refused. I might as well have offered him a dead roach to chew on.

“My sister went to America once and brought back all this American candy. Oh my. It was…oh my,” he said with bulgy eyes.

I laughed again.

“Where in America are you from then?”

“New Jersey.”

“Oh. Right. The city that never sleeps.”

“That’s actually New York.”

“Oh. Right. The capital then.”

“Um…okay.”

“What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a mom and I teach here and there.”

“Brilliant.” He chatted on, nervously stringing thoughts together. “England is pretty flat. We don’t have all those hills like America. Like Hollywood. Oh…um…do you fancy Donald Trump or Hilary Clinton?”

This guy was a riot. “Neither.” I changed the subject. “It’s so nice you’re talking with us. People don’t readily do that so much where we live.”

“I think in America you really have to watch your back.”

Hilarious. But this time I bit my lip because I could see he was dead serious and actually not entirely wrong.

“Can I take a video of you talking? You’re just so…British. Will you say hello to my boys back in the states?”

My new friend sat up straight and allowed me to record him speaking, even calling us “lovely” and wishing us the best time in London. Fancy that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

So flat-on-your-face exhaustion and complete mental time zone confusion actually hits the second day, not the first. It’s 3:30pm here and we’re just heading out.

Our plan is that we don’t really have a plan. Jeff is finished working for the day so we are all going to jump on a train and hit the last tour of the day somewhere in London or maybe go to Buckingham Palace and see if I can get a guard to crack a smile.

Two spots of Earl Grey, a “biscuit” and a few bites of a “grilled cheese” sandwich. I may actually lose weight on this trip.

It is NOT raining or foggy here, which I expected. Apparently they’re having the best weather in a while here in the UK. Everybody calls it that. “England” is so yesterday.

More on our adventurous yet sleepy field trip to come…

 

Tonight we found our way around a bit and took a ride on the London Eye. I was sure to point out the Thames River, discuss a brief history of the London Tower, and point out that Big Ben is not just a huge clock that does ding and dong on the hour, rather ominously, but does, in fact, house the British parliament. All very important facts since this is, of course, a field trip.

All to which Justin replied, “Can I get a hot dog?”

I learned that elevators are lifts, the British like their public transportation hot and stuffy and England smells like meat. In fact, here, pastries are not donuts or bear claws. A pastry refers to meat wrapped in flaky crust, which doesn’t sound entirely bad, but I really want something resembling Entemann’s with all this tea.

Jeff is off to work tomorrow which means Justin and I may venture over to Westminster Abbey (pictured behind me in bottom photo) by ourselves. This requires two trains and a ride on “the tube” (underground train). Or one taxi, one train, one tube. Oh this should be good.

I miss Nicky and Michael. But they are in good hands, keeping up with school, riding bikes and laughing with friends during our FaceTime, clearly having more fun than this “that sounds boring, mom” trip. And, truthfully, this summer I learned in Colonial Williamsburg that these kind of trips are for OLDER kids.

Justin didn’t really have a choice, being still very attached to me and on a complicated oral chemotherapy regimen. When I asked “permission” from one of his doctors, she pointed out that we were not traveling to the jungle and they do, in fact, have hospitals in London. Right.

One final thought is a verse running through my head.

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee. Isaiah 26:3

Oh and we did not have roadside food truck hot dogs for dinner. We managed to Americanize a burger with lots of ketchup (hold the gravy look-a-like red stuff) for Justin and I had fish and chips…what else? Grace be with you, my friends.

 

I’m having a cup of tea. In Crawley, England.

Jeff has come here to work and I was graciously invited by his employer to tag along.

We brought Justin along. Well, I AM homeschooling now, so I figured it would be one big, lovely field trip. It turns out he is an amazing traveler, not a bit phased by the seven hour flight and time change.

We arrived to a car service, complete with our name on a sign. The opposite driver side car thing is really weird.

Even though our mental clock read about 3am, it was time for breakfast here. Okay, British buffet and American buffet. NOT the same thing. No pancakes, omelette station and giant waffles here. Baked beans and black pudding? I don’t even want to know what’s in that stuff. I opted for tea and toast, thank you very much.

After sleeping off jet lag and figuring out the currency (England still uses the pound unlike most of Europe using the Euro), I realized that vending machines aren’t really a thing here and Jeff was already off to work. So Justin and I made  the only natural, clear-cut choice. Ordered nachos and sodas and enjoyed some junk food like good, old Americans. The British hotel employee almost popped his buttons when I motioned toward the bed as an obvious place to put the food tray.

Justin’s progressive transformation. But his smile is the same, persistent though the breakers continue to rise and fall.

After just a few weeks, it became clear that Justin is not physically able to keep up with the rigors of a full school day. He is on several oral medications which sometimes cause stomach pain, nausea or both. And Justin simply still does not have the same energy and stamina of the other kids in his class, needing frequent breaks to rest and often napping in the afternoon.

So our dining room is now a classroom of sorts and I have taken on a new role. Home-schooling mom. Teacher-mom. Home-mom teacher. Home-school artisan. This is new territory even for a teacher.

Muddling through. One day at a time. By His grace.

 And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. Galatians 6:9

Sometimes we turn off all the lights and have a grand dart gun battle. I surrender to the magnificent disarray of our home and embrace laughter. Dishes, laundry, chaos will always be here. But will my boys remember or care about having a clean house and a mom who’s all neatly put together or will they remember us laughing together as we bombard each other with Nerf darts in a dark house?

Day 243. Justin has entered the “maintenance phase” of his treatment protocol. It began today with a spinal tap. His spinal fluid was nice and clear, meaning the treatment is working effectively and has maintained remission.

It was a long, tedious, painful day for Justin. His nurse went over the oral medication schedule for the next two and a half years. I think my teacher certification exams were less complicated.

But.

We will step forward in grace, finding ways to make laughter balance the pain and looking to God’s goodness. We place our hope in Truth when we are down and remember that Justin’s awareness of God’s grace is being honed each time he overcomes procedures, blood draws, foot pain, nausea, exams, distaste for oral medication. Each time he rises above the ravaging toll of chemotherapy and kicks a soccer ball hard and fast down the field, Justin becomes more acquainted with the Jesus-grace and Jesus-joy and Jesus-hope his mom is always chattering about.

Justin is fast asleep at my side, still too insecure to sleep alone. His brand new hair is coming in faster now. His dark, thick, coarse covering has been replaced with soft, blonde, baby-duck-fuzz.

Justin will be changed. He will be different in many ways. But I trust that it will be for his ultimate good. (Romans 8:28)

My hope is that Justin remembers the laughter at the end of today, not the puncture of needles and nauseating infusion of chemicals. Find someone to blast with darts and laugh your heads off together. You’d be surprised how much it helps.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.” Psalm 126:2

Though Justin has been tried and tested, I am seeing God transform him into a “tree planted by the water.” (Jeremiah 17:7-8) There is still pain and fear in his life, but as we continue to put our hope in the Lord, He shows me beautiful glimpses of this molding and shaping that is taking place in Justin’s heart.

God is making one tough kid.

Today he played in the first soccer game of the season with his bro, Michael. Aside from the telling lack of hair, you would not have known Justin is a pediatric cancer patient. He played just as well and as hard as all the other kids.

Justin’s doctor and I have both observed that his feet have turned a bit outward and his walk doesn’t appear natural and normal. His doctor noted that this is a common response in childhood cancer patients because a certain chemo medication called Vincristine causes foot pain and numbness. This is also most likely being exacerbated by Justin trying to overcompensate due to the lack of strength in his legs. Justin seemed to have lost most of his muscle tone when leukemia first attacked the bone marrow in his feet, causing him to lose ability to bear his own weight for several weeks.

Justin’s legs became more sturdy as his feet healed, but he still isn’t as strong as he was before cancer. Justin will be evaluated, again, by a physical therapist to determine what we can do to correct and improve his gait.

So why am I bringing this up on a day of victories on the soccer field?

Despite “incorrect” gait, visible central line (to me) in his neck and lack of hair (clearly looking different than other kids), Justin walked, confidently, onto the field and hustled after the ball again and again.

God cares and is in control of all the little details of His children’s lives. Even on the soccer field.

But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water

that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit. Jeremiah 17:7-8

Justin refused those extra breaks we offered. And I didn’t push him to take them. Today, he wasn’t a cancer patient. Today, he got to just be a kid, complete with chicken nuggets and fries after the game.

Grace be with you, my friends.

Sometimes when I am in a place where there are many children, I wonder why mine is the only bald little boy, battling cancer and devastating side effects of chemotherapy with all of his fifty-five pound strength.

But then I see Justin regaining his appetite and strength after being wiped out and pushed down by chemicals that attack not only the harmful leukemia cells in his body. I see him enjoying his favorite meal, spaghetti and meatballs. And I see him goofing around, trying to “surf” on boogie boards with his brothers. I see him just being a kid again, and I know he is NOT fighting alone.

Justin often says that God helped him to do something or God caused something to happen. I believe Jesus is forming a friendship with Justin and growing a knowledge and understanding of God in him that is deeper and more intimate than his parents and brothers might ever know here on earth.

Justin talks about dying like it is something to be gained and achieved. He seems to KNOW, not just believe, that heaven is a wonderful place, far superior to our earthly comforts and pleasures.

Justin knows all about pain and suffering. He knows about real fear, not just the “monster-in-my-closet” kind. But I am convinced he also knows, by revelation of the Holy Spirit, about those God-things that are beautiful and safe and secure and full of hope. And that brings me more joy than my little boy having a pain-free, charmed childhood full of “happy” experiences and material things that don’t last.

I don’t like this place we’re currently in. What parent would? I hate it. I hate cancer.

But I trust God and His ability and faithfulness to work out His good purposes in this place where he has brought us. Grace be with you, my friends.