It was a shocker to the art world when this exhibit opened with the staff of the museum, excluding the director, not even knowing about it and the public learning about it one day before the opening. And since the opening several weeks ago, thousands have flocked to the humble Bristol Museum, including us, to stand in line over an hour. It was worth the wait. Please enjoy this video.

Larger Version

[vimeo]http://vimeo.com/5409338[/vimeo]

One of the biggest challenges in my experience of living abroad is meeting and making new friends. Slowly, intentionally, and sometimes randomly God has been faithful to bring people into my life and friendships have formed. This past week served as a wonderful example.

The community nursery school that our young son, age 4, attends is a most fabulous place and has been one of the finest examples of something done well in this country. Unfortunately, for random reasons probably involving politics & saving a few pounds, the government council has proposed to close it down in the coming years as it is with the current headteacher (principal) and join it to a low performing primary (elementary) school. Whereas this would not affect our family as our son will be “graduating” from there in July, my heart broke for the wonderful influence and effect the school has had on the families and community as a whole. So, when I got wind of this, I could not sit still.

It started with a couple of parents, myself included, wanting to do anything we could to stop the proposal. Someone got my e-mail and I was invited to a small planning meeting with 7 other mums. Some of us, strangers to most, sat in a room sharing what the nursery meant to us, and brainstormed ways to “fight the power.” As I looked around the room I noticed the neatest thing. Out of the seven of us, 6 different continents were represented.

From that meeting we formed an action plan, made countless letters to go out to the wider group of parents at the school, hosted a parent meeting for others to get involved, signed petitions, wrote letters to council members, talked to reporters (part of my letter to a reporter made the city paper), made banners, planned our protest, and marched through a main part of the city to county hall. Needless to say we spent a lot of time together.

From that initial planning meeting, I sat there with a little dialogue in my head, the kind that if you were watching a movie, the other people’s voices in the picture would fade out, while you hear the main character, though silent looking, narrating what he/she is thinking at the moment. “This is part of what it is all about. Being a part of a cause greater than yourself for something other than yourself. And doing it alongside those from every corner of the world. This is living!”

This past week God has given me the privilege of coming alongside virtual strangers and getting into their world and letting them get into mine. I have been encouraged to hear stories of how one person’s parents came to a radical, life changing faith in Jesus years ago while we rummaged IKEA for free banner making materials, been able to empathize with another as she described the seasonal depression she encountered upon moving here while while we sawed and cut cardboard, been able to answer many “American” questions from a Muslim lady and watch as her eyes widen and melt when I shared with her my disappointment of how my country has treated her country in the past as we painted slogans on our placards (banners), and I have been able to give wise council to another who was distressed as she sought me out because she thought I had a good level head. I have been able to plan &  march alongside Muslims, a Christian, those in poverty, and many single mums. And I am able now to call them my friends. No longer will I pass them with just a smile. I will be able to stop & visit. They know my name & I know theirs. And who knows where God will take some of these relationships.

And all of this from joining a cause. Sign me up for the next one!

Julie

A lovely gal/lady came up to meet me. She was very nice and we struck up a conversation about where she was from and where I was from. A very short pleasant chat. Then a man who she knows and I am getting to know comes up to visit with me. She remains completely silent throughout my conversation with this man which involves a bold complaint in a tasteful manner coming from me (that makes you wonder there, doesn’t it?). He leaves and it is the two of us girls once again. She is about ready to leave but says something, probably the length of a paragraph. It is done with a smile.

Here is what she said. I think.

“Piece of paper…..(dot dot dot indicate words I could not make out) paint…..(more words I can’t make out) hunch…..(still more words) art…..(another sentence or so missed) income.” And that was it. Those are the only words I got out of that paragraph. She walked away.We hadn’t talked about any of these words, she knows nothing of my background, etc. She was a complete stranger. And instead of saying, “Can you repeat that once more?” I smiled and said,”Yes, thanks, I am artistic.”

Sometimes I am good at asking others to repeat what they have just said. Other times I smile or nod or laugh, not quite sure, but afterwards I can often piece together words like a puzzle and make sense out of the conversation. This time my piecing of words did not lead me to anything. 

Here are my conclusions in no certain order:

1. She has a hunch that I am artistic and that I could make an income out of painting. (Remember, I have never mentioned anything about art nor do I paint).

2. She thinks I could make an income out of selling my clothes. (She was looking at my clothes while she was talking).

3. She thinks I like art and has asked me to paint her nursery for her not born child. If so, I’m in trouble because my answer, “Yes, thanks, I am artistic,” just got me roped into something.

4. And this may be the most far-fetched, but maybe after listening to me complain to this man she suggested that I paint my complaints on a piece of paper.

That conversation made no more sense to me than a bunch of random words in a scrabble game and I am left only wondering. But not to worry, I will have to see her again. I could leave it and act as if I knew what she said, but I am the curious sort. I will embarrassingly figure this one out. I just hope I am not painting a nursery.

-Julie

I’ll be attending Ignite Cardiff. http://www.cardiffwebscene.com/events/ignite-cardiff-2

Cheers.

1. Brits take their shoes off (most of the time) when they arrive to a carpeted house. This prevents all of the gunk and goo they obtain on their shoes from the dirty footpaths(sidewalk) from getting onto their carpet where their little dear little baby then rolls around. Or, in my case, where their 3 year old crawls around pretending to be a smilodon.
2. Brits bring a hostess gift when they are invited to dinner at someone’s home. They preferably bring wine, chocolates, or flowers to which their hostess always feels appreciated. And the grocery stores have wonderful flowers (my favourite-lilies) that they then mark down on a regular basis for quick sale. 
3. Brits wear whatever they feel like wearing and don’t give a hoot who is looking. I’ve finally found a place where I can wear my tartan skirt over my jeans with my Diesel motorcycle boots and not get any stares. They rarely wear caps and never wear those velour jogging suits (except sometimes in my part of town).
4. Close friend Brits kiss you on the cheek. Feeling awkward upon moving here I now really like this practice. In fact, now I do the Brit kiss and then the American hug. Watch out, I might do it to you!
5. Brits wait patiently in line (queue). I’m just so impressed by this and marvel every time how politely they wait and do not cut in. I no longer have to be on the lookout to confront the cutters. My friend told me there once was a law against breaking in. Brilliant.
6. Brits always invite you in. In America I was used to talking to my neighbors in my doorway especially when I was busy. But I found out rather quickly that you should invite someone in when they come to your door (if you know them of course). And you should really offer them something to drink.
7. Brits use cool words. I like that they say “trousers” for “pants” and “dressing gown” for “robe” and “waistcoat” for “vest” and “vest” for “tank top (or wife beater)”. I try to use their words often in my own Texas accent. And it is ok to laugh when you hear me.
8. Brits have a witty sense of humour. I have rarely met a person that doesn’t know how to have a good laugh. And I admittedly have to ask them what they mean sometimes. I am convinced that they have developed their humour as a way of coping with the dreadful lack of sunshine and massive amount of rain. So be prepared for me to take the “mick outta you”. (give you a hard time)
9. Brits always take time for tea. I’m not a major fan of tea all day long on an empty stomach, but I love the practice of taking a break. I went to work in the grassed area at Harper’s school one day in the afternoon, and only an hour after I was there, they were wondering if I’d like a cuppa (tea that is). In my art class we always took a tea break and had a chat. Isn’t that lovely?

On their first album, Hot Fuss, they have a song called All These Things That I Have Done. I can’t get the tune out of my head. I know it’s old, but I love the song.

Lyrics

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hw2vBYBE24Y[/youtube]

Cheers.

LOCAL FACTS
Population: 14,367
Households: 6,230
Welsh-born 74%, English 11%, elsewhere 12%.
Average age: 34
Working full-time: 38.8%
Of the unemployed – long-term: 32%
Type of house: Terrace (59%), flat (15%), semi-detached (14%)
Renting home: 35%
Not owning a car: 39%
Ethnic group: White (77%), Asian (13%), Black (4%), Mixed (3.76%).
Welsh-speakers (or some knowledge) 14%

Pretty interesting…
Cheers.

And for me. Well, every year it brings me back to my youth and memories of my dear brother, Paul, who will undoubtedly receive a phone call reminding him of what he used to do for the “love of the tour”. Long before Lance Armstrong made Le Tour popular amongst Americans, my brother faithfully awaited July in the 1980′s and that half hour/hour highlight special shown each weekend. And he didn’t just sit and watch….he became the tour. He donned his cycling cap, got his water bottle filled up, moved the stationary bicycle in front of the television and while watching, started to pedal and pedal. He became the tour. If it was an especially lucky year he would tape record the TV coverage and watch it back, or better yet listen to it taped on earphones….and he would cycle. King of the Mountains! He became the tour. Just think what it was like in our household when my mom got her hands on a copy of John Tesh official Tour de France music? Over the years, my brother’s interest in the tour greatly diminished, but this yearly event for me serves as a wonderful reminder to the creativity and greatness of my brother, Paul, who became the tour.

Julie

It’s a perspective that many of us probably haven’t thought through. And some might not agree with it. If you do disagree I’d be interested in your reasons.

Link

Cheers.

Here are direct links to the first 2 posts.

http://mentanna.blogspot.com/2008/05/invitation-to-table-part-one.html
http://mentanna.blogspot.com/2008/05/invitation-to-table-part-two.html

Cheers.