Visting the mother land

I am British. I was raised there until I flew across the great big sea as an 18 year old to pursue my dreams. Even though I live here in America I adore the land where I was raised. So many memories flood my mind when I am visiting. I have little desire to explore new parts of England but just want to swim in my memories and showcase them to mymy bo. It is rather hilarious how a little common town named Shepshed could have such a soft spot in my heart.

But in all honesty the very best part of visiting England is visiting Grannie.

My Grannie is one of my heros. Hands down one of my favorite people. She has always made me feel special, smart and unstoppable. She stands tall above the crowd sharing goodness and upholding truth.

I always LOVED sleepovers at her house; they always seemed like magic to me.

I often wonder if I will be as great an impact to others the way my Grannie is to me.





My Grancha passed on to the next realm last year and evere somes I have been feeling the urge to visit Grannie ever since. It felt SO SO SO good being with her. Caring for her. Making new beautiful memories with her. Serving her.

It’s it interesting how as time passes roles reverse. She used to be the one creating memories for me, making me feel special and now I get to do that for her. It’s an amazing gift God has given us to be what each other need at different times in each other’s lives.

Probably my favorite part of visiting England was spending Sunday with Grannie. We had her over for lunch (frozen lasagna brought to you by Sainsburys) chatting up a storm in our rental and then pushing her in her wheelchair around Bradgate Park. There were moments when she seemed so incandescently happy that her worries seemed to  blow away in the gentle breeze.

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