On My Way to London

I did not want to go to London. Back when I received the email advertising a field study in London, I thought, "Oh that would be fun. Should I?" And promptly came up with a mountain of reasons I was not going to go: expense, willingness, school, expense, etc. Honestly, I wanted to spend my summer at home as it is my last summer before I graduate. I definitely could not afford three months in London, one of the most expensive cities in the world (especially given the exchange rate). I needed to be in Utah to work on my masters project. London was a nice idea, but one I did not want to pursue. 


It was a dream, one you think "Ah wouldn't it be lovely?" but know in you heart nothing could add up to make it plausible.


Then one night, a few days after dismissing the email, I felt like I needed to pray about going. Pssh, I had not even considered praying because it was not something I wanted to do. 


I prayed.


I am in London.


Without quite understanding why (or even really wanting to be here), I am in London for three months, ostentatiously studying statistics and the culture. But there is another reason, somewhere under all the destroyed practicalities and reasonings, I need to be here. Yes, need. You may scoff – oh of course I need to be in London, with the Olympics and the Diamond Jubilee. My family (particularly my sisters) did not really believe me, and I did not try to convince them that I did not want to go. I knew my financial state, I knew every reason I should stay. But I had one to go.


After I prayed (rather flippantly actually because I thought it was ridiculous as I was not going), the idea clobbered me on my head. Surprised, I questioned God – "Really? Why on earth?" He did not answer that question fully. Just go to London. Everything will work out, but go to London. You need to be there. London. Not Provo. Not Huntsville. 


London.


I still do not know why. I still do not want to be here. I am still homesick. 


But I am here, waiting to learn why.