England is old.
When you get in your 'hired car' and make your way down the opposite side of the road, nervously spin the roundabouts, and speed past fields of green and yellow - you spot quite a few very, very old structures.
Thatch roofed homes.
Tall grey office buildings.
Small aged pubs squeezed into downtown village areas.
America's buildings are young pups compared to these.
When you sit at dinner and face stone mortar walls built centuries and centuries ago - you feel a bit immature and you feel humble.
It's almost as if you sense you need to respect the area simply for it's oldness.
Simply because it has seen much and stayed standing.
There's a reverence that has seeped in since those hot rubber tires skid the runway.
And we have only been here for one day. There's more things to see and feelings to feel coming soon, I'm sure.
I'm here....to hear, Lord.
And I'm on this soil to be stirred by You.
We relax God, knowing that you have beckoned us over to Britain - and that you will begin to unfold why in your way and fine timing. Yes, God. Thank you.
The husband has already slipped into a good slumber.
His traveling companion here should do the same.
I'm shutting my eyes tonight bowed and impressed and expectant.
Love to you from the Old Country, friends.
