The Fourth, and final, installment of the London Chronicles, I think. There's not much to say after Sunday, because we obviously arrived safely in Angers. :)
Alright...Friday Friday Friday. What do I have to say about Friday? Oh yes. Bon-bons and mal-mals.
Hehehe.
I’ll have to let you in on a little secret: if you leave us alone too long without supervision, Kendra and I have a tendency to get a little goofy. Or...maybe a lot goofy. And given the fact that we’ve been unsupervised for going on four months now, you can imagine how much a “lot” goofy really is. Just give us some chocolate bars, ice cream, and a camera, and you’ll see. 0_o Or, take for example the story of the bon-bons and mal-mals. (I just realized that all of these stories seem to involve sugar of some kind. Hmm.) Anyway, we were taking a short ride on the Underground, going...somewhere...(only God knows where now)...and I pulled out a little bag of candies (bon-bons) that a friend at church had given me before we left. I asked if she wanted a bon-bon, because I’m nice. ;) But, I used the French word instead of the English one by habit, like we usually end up doing. We chuckled about that for a second, and then all of a sudden I had one of my “linguistic moments.” That’s when all of a sudden, I make a connection or think of a question that has never occurred to me before. It’s usually something obvious. :P This time, I was wondering why bon-bons are called bon-bons. “Bon” means good...so I assumed that perhaps they were “good-goods.” I mean, it makes sense, given that it’s candy we’re talking about. So, I wondered this aloud, and Kendra took the question even further, wondering if perhaps there could be such as thing as a “mal-mal,” because “mal” means “bad,” and if there’s a “good-good,” it stands to reason that there could be a “bad-bad.” And then we both realized how ridiculous the whole thing was and cracked up laughing in the middle of the train car.
Yeah...I know, it’s not really all that funny to most of you. But to us? It’s priceless.
Friday we actually did succeed in seeing the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, and once again, I could hardly believe I was really there. The ceremony took forever, and I’m awfully glad I’m not one of those guards who has to stand there for over an hour, or one of the officers who has to march to and fro for no practical reason whatsoever. However, I am glad that I could be one of the tourists who took pictures of them while they did it. I have to say, though, that my favorite part of the ceremony was the concert given by the guys in the furry black hats. (Yes, I know they have a special name, but I kind of like calling them that.) Anyway, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God planned it for me, because why else would the band have picked that day to play a medley of Star Trek theme songs? It was soooo beyond awesome. I couldn't wipe the grin off my face, and I'm pretty sure Kendra thought I was weird. ;) I took a video of the whole thing, but I haven’t had a chance to upload it yet. Chances are it will take a great deal of time to put it on Facebook, but I’ll try.
We also saw some of the Veterans’ Monuments before heading off to Covent Garden. I’ve always kind of wondered exactly what Covent Garden *was* - and now I know. It’s basically just a shopping area, more posh than anything else. There are a lot of name brand boutiques, interesting specialty stores, and open spaces for street shows, as well as a few market areas displaying the goods of local artisans. I know it’s kind of touristy, but I really do like watching certain kinds of street shows. I’ve seen some incredibly talented acrobats and breakdancers who are also quite good at entertaining a crowd.
Anyway, after freshening up at the hostel, we found a well-established diner, where I ordered more fish and chips, and Kendra and I split an apple crumble with vanilla ice cream. It was like being in the South again, I’m tellin’ ya. :)
And then...one of my biggest, wildest dreams came true: I went to see a performance of the Phantom of the Opera. Live. And in London, no less! Aside from the small pillar in front of us and the restricted view of the ceiling (and the inebriated man behind me who felt the need to sing from time to time), our seats were actually very good. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered which seat I was in - it was the freakin’ Phantom of the Opera for cryin’ out loud. I had to pinch myself three times to make sure I was really there! It is one of the memories that will always be vivid in my mind. Not only was it absolutely surreal just to be there, but the performance itself was truly spectacular. The cast was well-chosen; I think that their Phantom is one of the best I’ve ever heard, and Christine was definitely a star as well. Raoul, well, I think he was probably just a bit too old for my taste, but a good Raoul despite that little detail. As a general rule, though, I never really like Raoul very much anyway; his character is just too much of a pansy.
After the performance, Kendra and I made our way past all of the nightclubs in the Piccadilly Circus quarter, winding through the wild, half-drunken crowds on the sidewalks waiting to get into clubs like “Tiger Tiger” and “Koko.” I’m so glad I wasn’t one of the crowd. If I had been, Kendra and I wouldn’t have heard strains of “Open the Eyes of my Heart” bleeding through noises of other street performers, and we wouldn’t have been able to join their tiny group of Christians doing ministry in the madness, and we wouldn’t have been able to pray with them before heading back to our hostel. Honestly, the way God orchestrates things still amazes me. :)
Saturday was a more slow-paced day, because by that time, we were pretty well exhausted. We ended up spending the day at the Imperial War Museum (and outside on the grass, picnicking in the sunshine), and I’m very glad we did. The WWI and WWII exhibits were interesting, but the Holocaust exhibit really grabbed me. It was so dark, so heavy, and so real, but so absolutely beyond comprehension. I wanted to cry for the victims, but I couldn’t. Instead, I found myself angry at the men and women who could commit such horrific, satanic evils. But then, I was reminded of Jesus’ response to such cruel and unjust acts committed against him: “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” All of a sudden, I was aware of the fact that every person who could be named a perpetrator of Holocaust atrocities was a human being - a human being just like me.
By birth, I am no different from a German who slaughtered ten thousand Jews.
Yes, me. I was born with the same depraved human nature and the same capacity to sin. But, by God’s grace, I was redeemed. I was bought from that slavery, and it’s humbling to think that any one of those criminals could be bought back, just like me. By believing on Jesus Christ, they could be freely given the same pardon, just like Paul, who had devoted his life to eliminating Christian believers before Jesus called him to new life. That is a truly mind-blowing concept, after having seen the filmed documentation of those Holocaust atrocities and heard the testimonies of the traumatized eye-witnesses who saw as children their parents brutally murdered in front of them. Of course, most of the Nazis I saw didn’t repent of their wanton bloodlust; their hearts were hardened to the reality of their sin. But how incredible would have been the grace of God for those few who might have believed?
And so ends the London Chronicles. I am so thankful to have been blessed with the opportunity to visit London after having dreamed about it for so long, and I will definitely treasure the experience for the rest of my life. :) That said, London is not the only blessing I've been given...after all, God has been faithful every day of my stay here in France, just as he was in the United States. For that, I will always be thankful as well.
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