"Sorry."

I think the most commonly used word in the UK is the word "sorry." (Okay, so this might not necessarily be the case for London crowds, especially when you're using the Tube during peak hours, but whenever you get a British person one-on-one, it pretty much holds true.)

People say it all the time. Someone bumps into you? Sorry. You bump into them? They still say sorry. The culture is just terribly apologetic. People are generally very concerned with being polite. But you also occasionally get the feeling it's all very passive aggressive, and perhaps just for keeping up appearances -- and that because they're all trying so very hard to be polite, they are going to get particularly bothered if you're not. It's like the British have perfected this mentality of worrying about doing the right thing not because it's right, but because you're worried you'll be judged if you don't. So when I stumbled upon British Problems, I couldn't help but laugh.

Here are a few of my favorites:

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(image c/o buzzfeed)

I absent-mindedly walked into the kebab shop instead of the cafe next door. I couldn't very well admit my mistake and just walk out again, so I ended up having a kebab for lunch.

I feel that in the interests of british neighbourly spirit I should get to know my neighbours. But now that we've been living in our house 4 years it would be too weird if I was to suddenly pop round and introduce myself.

My Chilean friends actually take food when I offer it to them.

I thanked a woman for letting me use the self-checkout ahead of her but I was already ahead of her in the queue.

After spending 3 hours waiting in A&E yesterday to have my hand X-rayed over a suspected fracture, I apologised for wasting the nurse's time when it was only a major soft tissue tear. She said it was ok but I could tell she despised me.

I couldn't order the pastry that I wanted this morning as there was only one left and I didn't want to create any awkwardness with the customers behind me in case they wanted it.

I'm simultaneously relieved and offended when no one sits next to me on the bus.

At work, I'm constantly offered cups of tea or coffee or biscuits; I feel guilty for turning the offers down, but I don't want to seem greedy by taking the offers up.

I said 'thank you' as a warden handed me a parking ticket.

A man in the supermarket was browsing the food I wanted to browse, so I had to pretend to look at things I didn't even want until he left.

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And it's here that I should probably admit that this is one area where I feel at home. At least I'm not the only one standing awkwardly behind the old lady in the middle of the aisle who didn't hear me when I said 'sorry.' We'll all just wait patiently (and only slightly passive aggressively) together until she shuffles out of the way. 

Thanks for making me feel like I belong, England.

  

Don't lose your sense of wonder.

“I need wonder. I know that death is coming. I smell it in the wind, read it in the paper, watch it on television, and see it on the faces of the old. I need wonder to explain what is going to happen to me, what is going to happen to us when this thing is done, when our shift is over and our kids' kids are still on the earth listening to their crazy rap music. I need something mysterious to happen after I die. I need to be somewhere else after I die, somewhere with God, somewhere that wouldn't make any sense if it were explained to me right now. At the end of the day, when I am lying in bed and I know the chances of any of our theology being exactly right are a million to one, I need to know that God has things figured out, that if my math is wrong we are still going to be okay. And wonder is that feeling we get when we let go of our silly answers, our mapped out rules that we want God to follow. I don't think there is any better worship than wonder.”  -Don Miller

  

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The only time I ever wear a watch is when I go running. I keep the timer going because I can be a tad competitive, and I like to see if I can beat my previous time. When I go running, I don’t like to stop. But about two summers ago, I started stopping.

I was living in a small town in the Midwest. Just around the corner from my house were these wide open fields – mostly farmland, but occasionally grown over and untouched. I’d go for runs down that way in the evenings, especially during the summer, when it was still light well past 8pm. There was one stretch of road bordered by these giant flowering trees, and you could smell the flowers as you ran past. Fireflies frequented the area, and around the bend, you could pretty much guarantee you’d see deer – I once saw around 20 in one evening – along with the occasional family of skunks.

I always stopped for these things. I’d pause my timer and then try to catch a firefly or laugh at the baby skunks or pick a dandelion to wish on. I’m sure I looked silly, childish even, especially when I was chasing after those fireflies. But I didn’t mind.

I’ll gladly cross the street to walk in the sunshine. I’ll go out of my way to step on a crunchy looking leaf. Whenever I go outside at night, the first thing I’ll do is look up.

I don’t know what life’s like for you, but it seems to be going very quickly for me (how is it December already?), and it doesn’t look like it will be slowing down anytime soon. But I don’t care how rushed or busy or pressed for time I am, if I see a sunrise like the one I saw this morning, I’m going to stop. Because one of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever received is this: “Don’t lose your sense of wonder.”

And I don’t intend to.

 

Wednesday randoms.

Preserving memories are important. Some people scrapbook. Others have diaries. 

I keep a quote book.

I've had it for almost 5 years now, and it's mostly filled with hilarious things my friends say (because my friends spend most of their time being very, very funny). Many of the entries in my quote book won't mean anything to people outside my circle of friends, but occasionally, there are some universally laughter-inducing lines. Moving to London has given me the opportunity to make quite a few new entries. I'm going to share some of them with you now.

Random sayings from my time here:

"You're different enough."

"I'm all alone in a baby onesie, and you're...just go. Get out."

-"A real live American!"

-"We finally got one!"

"If you'd have come in at that moment, you'd have found a lot of nakedness."

"Oh my gosh. Hannah's cake...I've murdered it. She's gonna open the fridge and find a massacre. Who can I say I shared it with?"

"You have great cheekbones. Have you ever considered becoming a ballerina?"

"I'm going to hug myself."

-"I don't want anyone to look at me like I'm a piece of meat."

-"Well I'm vegetarian, so I'd look at you like a piece of lettuce."

"I would love to speak Shakespearean English all the time. I say 'good morrow' every now and then."

"I realized my behavior was unacceptable, and all I had to offer was pears." 

"That's a lot of cake..." 

"His voice is like chocolate. Smooth and milky with a bit of sugar...lots of sugar." 

-"Guess who didn't get cream on her gingerbread latte..."

-"Don't tell on me!"

-"Okay, I'll make it ambiguous. Guess which American..."

"I'm kicking my chocolate habit. I haven't eaten chocolate in, oh, 24 hours."

"I'm a cheap date. I keep saying this, but I've got no offers."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I think I miss you the most when I'm listening to songs like 'The quiet things that no one ever knows,' and I realize that only half the song is getting sung."

That last one is more sentimental than funny. Sorry. Well, that's all for now. But I'm sure there will be plenty more, and probably soon. I'm lucky. I live with really funny people. Happy Wednesday, friends!

  

Leave.

"And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it? 

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. 

I want to repeat one word for you: 
Leave. 

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed." 


-Donald Miller, Through Painted Deserts