October 13, 2003 - Fairy-Tale Reality

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Fairy-Tale Reality - A Semester Abroad
By Kristen Henson
October 13, 2003

Cool summer breezes, beautiful cathedral spires rising over a green and brown patched landscape, stone and hedge walls penning grazing sheep, ancient buildings and towns filled with so many stories and so much history, a new adventure every day—where else could I be but England?

Here I sit, in the window seat of my room in the 150 year-old castle/dorm I am living in, surrounded by history every time I turn a corner—it sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? Well, in many ways, it is.

Right now, I am living a dream-come-true for this hometown, dream-big, country girl. Ever since I was a little girl growing up in Fort Branch, Indiana, I had heard so many stories—stories of exciting places and beautiful things, things I thought I would never see—and yet, here I am, a 19 year-old student, seeing them.

On weekend, college-sponsored trips, I have seen castles, walls, and archways that I had only learned about in elementary school.

I have visited Ireland, North Wales, seen the Tower of London, of which I had read about in a favorite book since I was young, and have toured Buckingham palace. As I was touring the palace, I was thinking, “My hand is touching a railing, and my feet are walking on carpet that many generations of royalty's hands and feet have touched for many, many years!”

For a kid from the country, this is a big deal. These are the experiences that are making my general knowledge of history and important places come to life for me. I truly am living in a dream.

Preparation Makes Perfect
When I was still in my senior year of high school, I would never have dreamed that one simple phone call would have landed me here two years later. I had received a full, four-year scholarship to the University of Evansville, the owners of the 150-year-old manor house known in Grantham, England, as Harlaxton College.

That phone call has changed my life forever. Growing up in a small town, going to a small, 20 student K-12 school, and never having been out of the country, I had huge plans for after I graduated college, after I was married and had a good job and enough money. I was going to travel the world—see all the sights I had always heard about, but never actually thought I’d see—until I started college and heard about UE’s “Camelot Across the Sea.”

It was a whirlwind. I had barely even started college, yet soon I started attending meetings, seeing pictures of England, putting in my application, and getting accepted to study at Harlaxton College. I could hardly believe it! It was finally happening—I was living my dream.

Before I could go, though, there was so much to do. I had a passport to get, deadlines to fulfill, money to make! I worked as hard as I could during college, working two jobs—one of them third shift—and finally it was summertime and I could work even harder.

Finally, the day came for me to hug my parents for a long moment and then board the plane without looking back. I was fine—better than I thought I would be, actually—and settled in for the first flight of my life, not soon to be my last, though! After almost a whole year of planning and getting ready, the day was finally here! And so I settled in for a long, sleepless, nine-hour flight.

Jolly Old England
It seemed forever, but so short, and I was passing through customs into a strange, exciting, adventure-filled, whole new world for me.

It was raining and cold when I arrived in London, so I slept for most of the three hours to ‘my castle’ in Grantham. I was awakened when our coach driver pointed out over the intercom that we could begin to see Harlaxton College on the left-hand side of the road.

Sitting up and filled with wonder, I caught the first glimpses of my new home through fields and hills and trees. In all the wonder, it never occurred to me just how hard it would be living here, spiritually alone, and no church or Pentecostal friends to keep me going. I was to learn how easy it would be to befriend the partiers with the wild nightlife that goes on here. How easy would it be to just go with the flow and do what they do—to make myself fit in, because no one would know, right?

Here, no one has parents, or the law, to stop them. The legal drinking age is eighteen years old. There is a pub at the end of the mile-long driveway leading to the Manor, and almost everyone goes there almost every night. Some friends invite me to go and I wonder if I should go. Sure, a pub is not actually a bar, it serves food to families, and some people don’t go there to drink. But the atmosphere is loud, dark, smoky, and people are dancing—it’s very much like a bar, indeed. Sure I could just sit with my friends and eat and socialize—but is that all I would do? How far would I go under pressure?

So far, in the one month I have known these people, I have stood my ground fairly well. I have let people know my religious beliefs, that I don’t drink or dance, or do the things they do. And they’re okay with that. Every once in a while though, they invite me to come with them. It’s so hard not to go! I want to go and be with my friends. I feel like a loner every night, because while everyone is partying and having fun, I am up in my room studying, and hoping that one of them will come and ask me to do something fun with her or just talk and laugh with me without being in the bar.

Churchless Old England
In this beautiful country, surrounded by a dream, adventures, excitement, and people everywhere, I am all alone—no Pentecostals, no one nearby with my beliefs, no one who looks like me. I am a girl alone in a godless country—or so I thought.

One day my pastor e-mailed me with the name and number of a Pentecostal pastor within a thirty minute train ride from where I am living. I was so excited I called them right away! I would finally get to be around Pentecostals again.

After a series of (largely self-inflicted) mishaps, I finally found my way to Nottingham, on Saturday, September 27, 2003. There, Sis. Anita Ogle greeted me with a big hug at the train station and took me to a quaint little bed and breakfast where I stayed the night. I thanked God so many times that night for the Ogles, who had found me a cheap place to stay, and who had gone so far out of their way to help me—a stranger from America whom they had never met.

The next morning I took a taxi to the Community Center where they had church and sat through (probably) the most wonderful four hours of my life. All my life I’ve gone to church faithfully, four times a week, receiving spiritual nourishment from the singing, worshipping, and preaching. Now I had been exactly one month and four days without anything except my personal prayer, Bible reading, and preaching tapes from North American Youth Congress.

All of that is good and has kept me focused, but I was beginning to feel dry spiritually. I needed the presence of other Pentecostals. I found myself tearing up so many times during that service, just thinking how wonderful it felt, and thanking God for helping me to get there.

Due to a heavy student semester-long schedule, I have already counted the services I will attend, and I think there are only six. Yet I think God will make those six times the best services for me and enough to last me the remainder of the 81 days I am in this wonderful country.

But Is This The End?
I have the mindset that I need to do and see and buy as much as I can while I’m here, because I may never be coming back. However, maybe God has other plans for me. The Ogles’ church is just getting started, and I know of a few other churches, including the Evans’ in Wolverhampton, England, the Kelleys in Glasgow, Scotland, and the McFarlands in Northern Ireland, who may need some help. I have always suspected I would be a missionary or do a work for God overseas, and maybe this is it. Maybe this one little light shining in the midst of 98 American college students can help shine God brighter into this country—this country filled with magnificent churches, inspiring cathedrals, and beautiful steeples dotting the landscapes everywhere. Maybe I can help fill those churches with God-fearing people, all the while being able to continue the almost-unimaginable dream of living in this wonderful country. Maybe I can, with God’s help, bring some of my classmates here at Harlaxton Manor to God. And if not here, then maybe I can make a difference when I go back to my real world at the University of Evansville. Maybe someone will see God’s light shining through me and say, “I want that. I want what she has.” And I am so thankful to have this—I have Jesus with me, guiding my every step along this awesome journey I have been so blessed to be able to take.

As the Old Testament tells us, “And Solomon determined to build an house for the name of the Lord, and an house for his kingdom…Behold, I will build an house to the name of the Lord my God, to dedicate it to him, and to bring before him sweet incense, and for the continual showbread, and for the burnt offerings morning and evening, on the sabbaths, and on the new moons, and on the solemn feasts of the Lord our God. This is an ordinance for ever to Israel. And the house which I build is great: for great is our God above all gods.But who is able to build him an house, seeing the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain him? Who am I then, that should build him an house, save only to burn sacrifice before him?” (II Chronicles 2:1, 3-6).

Maybe I can take on some of Solomon’s determination when he determined to build a house for the name of the Lord. Maybe I can say, “Behold, I will build a house to the name of the Lord my God. I will build a house for all to see here at Harlaxton College and if I get a chance to minister around the United Kingdom. And the house I build will be great, for great is our God above all gods!”

ninetyandnine.com

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Kristen Henson is a sophomore at the University of Evansville, majoring in elementary education with a minor in Spanish. She especially enjoyed visiting London because it was so exciting seeing all the things I had learned about growing up. In The Giant Rat of Sumatra, by Jake and Luke Thoene, a group of boys get into the Tower of London, and everything they see, including the infamous fat ravens, I got to see and take pictures of. However, I wasn’t beheaded.