Hello there,
The late Queen got a mention last week in my greeting. Little did we know, the great lady had most likely already left us.
I am afraid there’s nothing else to talk about this week — I give you here all my best tidbits, reflections, and links in honor of the passing of the longest-reigning monarch in British history.
You knew this was going to happen right? Do you even know me at all? If this is crazy to you, we’ll be back to normal next week. Cheers.
The Part Where There’s an Essay: That Time We Saw the Queen
(I wrote a serious piece about Her Majesty this week on my blog. You can read that over here. The piece below is a bit funnier :) )
For most of our kids’ childhood, David and I saved up money for the One Big Vacation we wanted to take them on: a visit to the British Isles. I will probably write more about this in a future essay, but in general, we wanted them to go someplace with older history than here.
(I know, North Carolina is just as old as England. But there’s something truly humbling about standing next to that tower in the center of Oxford that dates from the 11th century. That’s old. You feel your passing nature as a human being when you see that. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and when I’m gone that tower will still be standing in Oxford.)
The trip was a bit harried from the get-go. Our trip there was one in which we got out on the heels of a blizzard, literally. We flew out of Providence, RI on the only plane that left that day. It departed at 10 pm, full of New Englanders who had sat in the concourses of the airport all day, headed to Dublin for St Patrick’s Day weekend.
We enjoyed the week we had planned, though there were plenty of mishaps I won’t get into now. It was a comedy of errors, but we just kept trekking along. On our last day there, we received a phone call from Norwegian Airlines to inform us that our flight home was in jeopardy, due to another winter storm headed up the eastern seaboard of the US.
(We were in the Tower of London when we received this phone call. *insert failure to execute joke here* sorry)
We walked over to the gates of Buckingham Palace after we finished the tour of the Tower. On the walk over, David and I were mentally spinning. We could not afford to stay in London longer with five children. Should we take a train somewhere else and try to fly on a different airline to another New England city? How could we pivot and get home?
I remember walking by the daffodils along the Mall (the one you’ve seen all week in news coverage) when I heard Jonathan cry out. He had bought a special pen in the gift shop, and it broke in his hand. He was missing a piece; could we retrace our steps and find it? Every parent has had this experience: the child begs for the cheap piece of plastic from the place; the cheap plastic breaks, just as the parent knew it would; cue drama.
We puttered around that area for a few minutes and couldn’t find it. He was sad but took it ok.
At the gates of the palace, David turned to the kids and told them what was happening with the flight home. And then, he said the thing that he had said to them all week; the thing he told them as we sat in Providence wondering if we would ever depart; the thing he told them when one kid threw up on the sidewalk in Dublin; the thing he told them when Oxford had an unprecedented cold snap.
“We will take the adventure that Aslan sends us.”
We don’t know what will happen, he said. We might get stuck here. We might have a really long trip home. We’re going to trust and do the next thing.
They nodded, in perfectly good spirits. It was inspiring. We took this picture.
And then, the gates behind us started to open. Someone was coming.
A small motorcade rounded the corner, and there, in the backseat, three yards from us, sat Her Majesty, the Queen of England, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith.
I utterly failed to take her picture or any video. I fooled myself into thinking my phone was cooperating, but it was too cold to sense my finger. I stood there dumbfounded as my son yelled over my shoulder, “MOM. IT’S NOT WORKING. YOU’RE NOT GETTING IT.”
Here is my photographic evidence, as the gates were closing. Isn’t that a cute lamb backpack? We all treasure this perfect photo.
(another failure to execute)
My eloquent husband, who had just done some of his most brilliant parenting, inspiring trust in God and perseverance amidst difficulty, uttered these words as she drove by:
“HOLY CRAP, IT’S THE QUEEN.”
So suffice it to say we were glad to not get THAT on video. Plus bulletproof glass means she probably didn’t hear him. I really hope she didn’t.
She was tiny but mighty. I’m so glad she drove by. I’m so glad Jonathan’s stupid plastic pen broke because we would have missed her without that tiny delay. I’m so glad for the little adventures that Aslan sends us.
Goodbye, good lady. I’ll see you on the other side.
For the Anglophiles
The nerdiest thing I found this week (and it was a tight race) was the Twitter account of The Burgon Society. They are a “Learned society & charity promoting the study of academic dress, history, heritage, design & use. Universities. Robes. Regalia. Graduation. Ceremonial.”
So essentially they’ve been burning up Twitter for the last week, explaining the significance of all the different uniforms and gowns appearing at various events. Here’s an example:
Until this moment, I never considered how the powder from your powdered wig might be a nuisance to your clothing. But hey, here’s a handy bag to tuck your wig tail into so that doesn’t happen.
Reads & Listens of the Week
Here’s an assembly of the best tweets I saw this week. Twitter has been a TREASURE.
One of my favorite stories, in which the Queen makes sure that everyone knows she can drive — like REALLY DRIVE.
Doesn’t everyone do this? Or maybe just my family, since my grandfather was a dairy farmer. Anyway, I do this and so did my mom: COWS!
Remember what I told you about swans in the UK:
An amazing photo, greeting Kermit and Ozzy:
And lastly, the Royal Parks begs people to leave their Paddingtons and marmalade sandwiches at home:
It has always been easy to hate and destroy. To build and to cherish is much more difficult.— Elizabeth II