Becoming Strange

I’ve always wanted a blog.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful, I thought, to be able to keep an ongoing diary of events and occasions, full of wit and wisdom, to show to the outside world? “Look at me!” it would say, “I’m here to make your day brighter, and lighter, and other words ending in -ighter.” Let’s get to the point, however. I’ve never had the kind of life that warrants any kind of attention. Oh, not dull or boring, never that. Perhaps just a bit more normal than most.

That is, until I decided to embark on the greatest adventure of my life.

As long as I can remember, I dreamt of a beautiful, foreign land. A land of wonderful people, deep history. A land where my ancestral roots would be shaken and reborn. I learned more about my heavenly space, and my dreams grew more exotic. A land where vicars solved mysteries. A land where pythons named Monty were quoted, where royalty still lived, where things less than 500 years old were still referred to as “new”. Finally, in 2019 I ventured into this land of tea and biscuits, without a single concern that it would fall short of my high esteem. My brother, his wife, our sister and I made plans for a vacation together – London, Oxford, Leeds and London again. Journeying around to see the places that painted the backdrop of so many books and shows and movies that we have all grown to adore.

Standing in Heathrow Airport, I turned to my sister and said the simple sentence that I can never fully explain: “I feel like I’ve come home for the first time.” On the flight home nine days later, I promised myself that I would return every year, without fail. Saving up in my travel fund (something I had started decades before) until I could fly back. Nothing would keep me from standing in this New Jerusalem again!

(Cue COVID)

It was three years later when I travelled again. To a small village outside Huddersfield for a retreat in a converted church, and then to York, to meet up IRL with some amazing friends I had met along the way. It was in that walled city that I realized I was falling head over heels in love again, even more deeply that before. So it wasn’t just England then. It was THE NORTH.

Long story even longer, it was the following year that I attended a gathering of the Society of Ordained Scientists (back again in Leeds) when the gem of an idea was placed in my head. The Bishop of Manchester asked me the question:

What do you think about coming here?

Me: I love it, nice flight over, very easy to get to.

BoM: No, I mean coming here.

Coming to Manchester to work and to live?! Could he be serious? Could I do that? Why would I do that? And then one of those amazing people in my life said the mantra that would stick with me during the whole decision making process – Why wouldn’t you?

He was right. So I did.

Almost 2 years later and I am on the wildest adventure of my life. Moving from one country to another is easier than I thought, and much harder than I imagined. Many differences I was prepared for and many more that have cropped up. It’s been a great story to tell, and this is how I plan to tell it. Not a researched guide to the linguistic divisions or the varied ways of expressing math. Maths. Math. Well, there you are. What is it like for a life long (New) Jersey girl to follow her dream across the pond?

Stay tuned to find out.