The morning was clear and bright when I woke up today. We were all up by 8 this morning so we could get to church early to practice our song for Sacrament Meeting. After about a half hour of practice, we felt good enough to go downstairs to the Sacrament Meeting room...that and we had run out of time, so we had to go whether we were ready or not :)
You know that feeling you get, just before a performance? Even if it isn't anything big, its always the same thing, for me anyways. If I'm about to play my violin, rather than finger through my pieces, everything around me becomes full of its own music or little tunes, and my fingers wander over invisible strings as I match the notes to the specific corresponding spots on my distant instrument.
Well, while I've been trained to sing in tune, I'm really not much of a singer. Though this apparently didn't break my little pre-performance habit, just altered it. i caught myself humming the alto part to the prelude music probably five minutes after I had started. While I chuckled to myself at getting so caught up in my pre-performance mode, I realized that this new awareness had come only because something had broken my trance. See, when I had caught myself, I stopped humming (I was chuckling, remember?), but the hum didn't stop. In fact, it was growing louder throughout the room by the second; the entire congregation was still, but they were sweetly humming all the different parts of each prelude hymn the pianist played, most of them with their eyes pleasantly closed, and it was more than gorgeous. There's something incredible that happens when people come together to accomplish the exact same goal or purpose. Sometimes, like in a music group or sports team, the people are thrown together because of a formal selection process, and thats all fine and good. But sometimes, sometimes it happens so voluntarily and naturally that one can find a whole floor of people filling a meeting hall with songs of worship, just because everything about it is right for every one of them. I'm certain i haven't completely captured this powerful moment with words alone, but there is a lesson to be learned there, gentle reader, I promise there is.
Ten minutes late, the bishop got up and began the meeting. He announced that our BYU group would be singing the prelude number, and then we would have the opening prayer. I looked at Tom, whose eyes were also considerably wide with surprise at the news, before I shrugged and faced forward. Well, looks like we were getting this out of the way sooner, rather than later. Which was more than fine, but a little on the ironic side as we all got up and sang 'God be with you till we meet again' to open the meeting. Oh well, dim problem.
Miya, Jessica, and Tom all gave talks. All three were just what I needed to hear. Boy, I'm not kidding when I say that Heavenly Father really is amazing at His job. Well, all the talks were uplifting, until Tom got up and talked about how all decisions have consequences that we can't control, like if we aren't prepared for a final, then we shouldn't expect to pass it. Ominous, disconcerting, maybe a little alarming...oh boy, I probably should brush up on my history timelines this week, huh?
Well, when the meeting came to an end, I whipped out my iPad and got everything ready. As the closing prayer finished, the bishop nearly ran back up to the podium before anyone got up, he invited a brother to come up and start off the song. As the man marched purposefully up to the podium, I hit the record button. He started the Welsh Farewell, and the all the members around us rose, singing as they stood. It was gorgeous. The lyrics were full of thanks, friendship, hope for return, and, of course, farewell. Many cried, I even teared up, and then it was over.
And I have nothing to else share of that moment except for this blog post.
As soon as it ended, the bishop approached me and asked me to delete it. I was so embarrassed. I had figured that since it was after the closing prayer, that it would be okay for me record, but I honored his wishes and deleted it right then. Part of me is really sad that I don't have that anymore, but the more I think about it, the more I'm grateful that I don't have it. See, I have this thing where I intentionally don't watch my absolute favorite movies or listen to my most favorite songs often, because I don't want them to ever become standard or normal for me, and the more I watch or listen to something, the more normal it gets. I guess I'm afraid I'll appreciate it less if it becomes normal, so I keep it special by keeping myself distant. I think this happens more than I even realize, and it gets me in trouble sometimes, but that's just what I've been learning about myself. So for as much as I cherished that moment, I guess I'm glad that I don't have that to play for myself like I would any other song, or share with others who won't be able to value it like we did that day. So, once again, I guess this is another good time for me to thank my people upstairs for watching out for me.
Once everyone started leaving for their classes, our travel group all went back home. We were given enough time to change into clothes we could hike in and then make some lunch. About an hour later, we were all back at my house, prepped and ready to go adventuring.
We hopped back in the van and headed for the country. So far so good :)
Our first stop was to Gadfield Elm Chapel, the oldest LDS chapel in the world!!! Now wait, you probably just had a question flash through your mind, probably something along the lines of: 'what should I make for dinner tonight?' or 'how does this girl have so many ridiculously cool photos?' or possibly even 'if the Church was re-established in the eastern states, why would the oldest chapel be in Wales?'
I'll be completely honest with you, my patient and gentle reader, I can only answer the last of those questions.
While it was a few years after the church was restored in New York before the good news spread to Wales, Gadfield Elm was definitely around. As a matter of fact, it had been there for about 50 years by that time, but was serving its purpose as a barn. After Wilford Woodruff baptized many of the local people there, the barn was cleaned and turned into the first LDS chapel in the UK. So in one sense, it's the oldest because it had been standing for a lot longer than any other church building, but it just didn't always function as a church. Also, there are not many of the original US LDS chapels still standing today, so even in reference to LDS service time, it is still one of the oldest standing.
It is still used for LDS Sunday meetings, so it has been beautifully maintained. It's a cute stone building with a loft upstairs designated to describing the history of the church in this area. There were even a few, umm..., elementary play scripts about some of the bigger events, like when Wilford Woodruff and the newly converted saints were saved from mobs and persecutors and how the most unlikely of people were converted. Since my group was so fun and goofy, though, we went through them all, and had such a blast!
After the plays were finished, we went back downstairs. Most everyone started going into the stone chapel, but because I'm human, I made a quick pit stop. I walked out of the ty bach and heard what sounded like really echo-ey singing. It was. But the weird part is that it was a Welsh tune I was familiar with, but I could hear my name in it now! I ran into the doorway of the chapel to find the whole group singing
Ble mae Rachel? Ble mae Rachel? (Where is Rachel? Where is Rachel?)
Yn yr ty bach! Yn yr ty bach! (In the bathroom! In the bathroom!)
Am beth? Am beth? (What for? What for?)
But by this time, I was standing in the doorway and wasn't about to let them finish with anything too ridiculous, so I put my hands up in the air in triumph, smiled, and interrupted the last line by proudly yelling 'I did it!!' And all was made well in Zion once more.
I took my seat next to Katy, since she was sitting alone and I wanted a sitting buddy too, and after a bit, Tom reminded us that we were in a chapel, so we should quiet down. We spent a little bit of time talking about the chapel, what the people here must have been like if they were willing to go through so much, and then Katy mentioned a book of family names that was upstairs that documented all the converts that were baptized here. I couldn't pass up a chance to check for he few family names that I was aware of from my English lines, so I actually jumped up, left the room, ran upstairs, grabbed the book, and came back. No song this time.
I'll have to check the names more when I get home, but I found an Allen line, a John and Mary Cole line (I actually couldn't remember if we had any Cole lines, but they died in Nephi and Willard Utah), and a Palmer line that ended up in Toole.
After we talked for a bit more, we decided to sing a hymn that the old saints would have sung here, so Katy picked 'We thank thee o God for a Prophet.' It was a really nice moment.
After that, some other people started coming into the church, so we decided to head out to our next destination.
It was a long drive to Benbow Pond, the place where the first saints (and a dog, or so the surrounding mob men threw in anyway) were baptized. (No, the dog didn't actually get baptized, Elder Woodruff knew better than that). I don't remember who started it, probably Abbey, but someone started singing a hymn in the car. Then someone else started humming the alto part. Someone else came in as another soprano, and before long, the whole back half of the van (meaning, me and the girls from my house) were softly singing hymns as people would bring up the lyrics on their phones and tablets. For a group that would usually be spending that time being loud and a bit rambunctious, that was a really cool half hour. Yes, half hour. We stopped once, just two hymns in, thinking we didn't want to annoy the rest of the van with something special enough like hymns, but to our surprise, two of the more blunt people asked us to not stop. So we sang for the rest of the ride. All I can say is that there was a really really nice feeling there as we drove through the green fieldlands into England. I'm just really glad that we took the opportunity to honor the purpose of the day that way.
When we got to Benbow, we had to walk through a bit of a field to get there, much to my delight. I should have ran to the hill cliff with the other girls, as there was an amazing view point of the patchwork fields, but I didn't see it until we were leaving. No stress though, I got the best view shots today at our next location.
Benbow pond was....green. Like, neon green. It had been so long since it's really rained here that the whole pond has grown over with electric-green moss, so it made the water look really gross actually. But it was still cool to see. Also, there were more of those teeny tiny brown frogs all in the grass there, so we took like thirty seconds to find some and hold them before we let them go and went back to the van.
Our last stop of the day was to an unnamed hill fort. I had missed hiking up through the hills and forests here, so it was so wonderful to huff and puff my way up to the top. As we came to the top of each hill, we looked around and just shook our heads; you could see five miles away from the first few hills! The weather was glorious, blue skies with a few playful clouds to the east and a gray stretched out cloud hanging over the west sky. Up and up and up, each view more unbelievable than the last until...we made it to the top of the highest hill. The fort ruins were almost completely gone. I would have first guessed an ancient cairn stood there before a full fort, but that's obviously not my specialty.
Besides, I was too awestruck at what was off the edge of the hill's cliff than what was on it. You could easily see at least fifteen miles of the most stunning flourishing landscape in any direction. Oh, it was a taste of what it must be like to look down from heaven at another kind of heaven. So many quaint, tender colors in such a down-to-earth place.
Um, don't misunderstand me, I know I romanticize a lot, but it's not heaven. It might be a taste, but it's nothing more. Even in all its sublime beauty, it's another place where people suffer and struggle, where things can go very wrong and where things aren't even always beautiful. This has never not occurred to me. But there is something vastly unique here, something special that I have never found before; it's a new feeling of possibility. I guess it's a possibility for beauty like this to exist DESPITE everything that does go wrong in the world. I've been ridiculously lucky to catch it on a unique year, but this place is supposed to be wet and rainy and cold and miserable for eight months of the year. It is hard and rugged land to live on, but its gorgeous anyway because that's just what it's nature is. I may romanticize about this place a lot, but I didn't fall in love with it because I'm pretending it's some carefree, magical, perfect place. I fell in love with it because it's a real, meaningful, and incredibly gorgeous place despite everything that isn't perfect. And that's what love is, right? Appreciation that blossoms if it can weather understanding?...
Wow, so, we were at the top of a hill.
Looking out over sheer beauty. And the wind was strong up there. It was so much fun to play with! It tore at our loose jackets and jumbled up our hair. It was almost strong enough we could lean into it and stay upright, but not quite. We stayed up there at least an hour, taking countless pictures, jumping around, just sitting and looking out in silence, and just having the time of our lives. That was an amazing place.
Eventually, as the sun started sinking, we headed back down the stone trail back to the van and drove home. Once there, we decided to use up as many of our food products that would go bad in the next few days, as we were going to be away from Cardiff for the majority of the week.
After dinner, Lydia decided to sit down to our limited internet access and start planning some post-trip stuff. We have been playing with the idea for some time about seeing more of north Wales, Scotland, and then heading down to Paris for a little bit before heading out to Dublin. The problem was that travel up to Scotland from this area was very expensive, and it would be tricky to come back soon, since there wasn't a ton of travel happening from there. So we really weren't sure what to do.
It was then that a crazy idea hit us. See, we were all going up to York the following day, spending a night in a hostel there, and then going to Scotland the following day. What if Tom just left us there? He had told the group that if we ever needed to be left somewhere, then we just had to get ourselves back home by the final. It might be hard to take the final if we missed a lot of stuff, so no one did it, but this close to the end of the trip, he said that it would be fine if anyone did it. If we got left in Scotland, then we would only have to figure out/pay for the return trip. The problem was that it was already 11pm and we were leaving at 5 the next morning, so stress levels went up at that point. We decided that we would make up our minds once we were in Scotland and we got a feel for the place. in the mean time, we would pack as though we were getting left behind, so that we had what we would need.
With that, I sent out a few emails to those who had written me, mainly Gretchen, Ethan, and Dad, before we would lose the internet for a while. After I had written up some good emails and sent them, I went upstairs to my room, packed up all my belongings and my Scotland gear, finished up my day, and then crashed.
Possibly good-night forever, my little bedroom in Cardiff.
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