Last King (Not) In Scotland

So...I'm...in.....Barbados! Usually, this would come with a smile and a deep breath as I stepped out of the plane feeling so fly but not this time. This is the second time I was not happy to be home; the first was in September when I went to a GMO (inbox me if you want to know what a GMO is). There's a song by Switchfoot that I was learning to play on the guitar called "Thrive" which reminds me of the situation - "Always close but never enough...I get so down but I won't give up."

"As the hour drew near to take my last breath
I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to [leave] yet.
I'm walking the path of all the brothers who [tried]
And I'm not sure what awaited me on the other side." (As The Hour Draws Near - Shai Linne)

I walked through the departure lounge and I prayed to God because "it was hard to accept - my heart was heavy you know. I wasn't sure if I was ready to go." I didn't cry though because I don't have a feminine side...just kidding. It takes a while for me to miss home and a longer while for me to start crying.

The plane ride was long, the food was ok and most of the movies which showed I wanted to see. Am I old if I used movies to help me sleep better? I missed the middle half of Transformers and Contagion due to sleep.
As we flew over England I could see castles and meadows and roads and sheep (I think. Little white puffs on the grass). It was all exciting stuff which reminded me of Mr Bean and King Arthur. Of course, it didn't alert me to how cold it would be.

We landed and disembarked the plane and made our way to Border Control. "Tell me what you came in here for?" (The Ambassador). "Well I came to study," I replied. "Do you have your visa?" - "No. I thought I could have come as a visitor and then changed my status," I answered. "I don't think you can do that," the officer rebutted. While at the desk I showed him my acceptance letter and e-mails from the finance office and other letters from banks, and the government, then he seized my passport and sat me down in a waiting area.

I'd call it the public shame area because it's out in the open between the "UK/EEA passengers" and "Non-UK/EEA passengers" queue. And it's the only area with seats and people looking concerned. After sitting and praying for about 20 minutes the officer came back and said that he has to make a few checks and have me answer a few questions. I sat and after about 15 more minutes a lady came out all smiles and took me into the room. In my mind I was thinking that she was crazy or playing the good cop. I sat in a room which looked like a doctor's office with two cameras and a computer.

All smiles and laughter, she took my fingerprints and my picture and gave me a glass of water to drink. It was pretty funny when my prints had be to rescanned about 20 times because the slightest move messed up the picture, but I tried to laugh but that didn't really work. I tried but all I was thinking was that I'd have to "take off all my clothes" like Nelly said and they'd "throw some bows" like Luda. But none of that happened.

I was moved into another room with a desk screwed into the floor and four chairs chained to the floor. I sat and waited for someone to interrogate me, maybe slap the desk and send my heart flying out of my chest or the pee the other direction. I finished off my glass of water and reminded myself that only criminals should be scared of being caught and that I had watched too much Nat Geo. In the back of my mind I said this would make a great story.

The officer who took my passport came back with some paper and explained to me that he was going to write down the questions and my responses. He began:

O: Do you understand the words coming out of my mouth?
M: Yes.
O: Spreken thee English?
M: Yes
O: Annie are you ok? Are you ok, Annie?
M: Yes.

He asked me stuff about the school, my educational background, my intended length of stay, my funding, whose idea was it to come without the visa, and why I chose the school. I answered them all with a straight face and cracked no jokes (hence why all of them are in the blog). He then left and the lady who took my fingerprints came back with some forms stating why she had my prints and what should happen to them in the future. Another guy came in looking sick and he searched me, with my clothes on and gave me another form stating what I had owned and what they found. I was actually so frightened I gave him the garbage from my pockets! The officer came back and offered me some food and then sent me into a room with chairs, tables, lounge chairs and books. It even had blankets and pillows! I thought, "it'll be a long night mate" so I picked up some book about a mother who threw a baby into a well and began reading it.

Unfortunately, the AC was ripping and I got cold. I got up and tapped the window and motioned for someone to come to the door since I didn't know if I could have opened the door and ask for a blanket. When I tapped the window the 4 guys sitting outside looked up and when I motioned to the door one of them waved back! I just shook my head as he came to the door. I asked for my coat and he said "but we have  pillows and oh...where are the blankets?" and got the blankets while I got my coat and it was searched - somehow they didn't find the chocolate bar. I sat back in the room and read and as the story was getting interesting the door opened and the officer came back.

He explained that after talking with his manager, I can switch my status to anything except a student. There is just too much paperwork to be done as a student for persons to change their status in the UK. He apologized multiple times and underscored the fact that we spent a lot of money but the visa is needed before hand. He still had my passport and said that I would get it back when I return to the airport the next day. I was actually allowed to leave the airport! Of course I had to be back to check in else I'd become a fugitive and have to do like Frank Abagnale Jr.

I got a taste of the cold that day and ended up with a sore throat by the night time even though my extremities were covered and my neck was being strangled by a make shift scarf. I still enjoyed it though and soon from now I'll be running around bare back! (And barefoot like Contessa). I learnt some valuable lessons this time. For one, we live in Babylon and Babylon system got rules (no I'm not Rasta). I know all things happen for a reason and in all things God works for the good of those who love him; who are called according to his purpose, as Romans 8:28 says.

It was a pretty interesting ride from the airport to Grantley Adams. I cried that night and on the plane back home and when I got to immigration here I had to go into another office. I now have the black spot and am "famous" in airports and probably have to explain my story all over again every time I land in a country. Hopefully this doesn't block my entry into other countries. I'm hoping to go back as soon as practical.

Characters Welcomed

"There is never a dull, never a dull, never a dull moment in Barbados...there is never a dull moment in Barbados!" These words seldom lie. Actually I'd go as far as to say that if people found these words to be false the proceeding words must be true: there are no dull activities, only dull people! I went to Oistins on Saturday night with some friends of mine who live in Canada. I tried to rally the troops from church but the troops were already deployed to other areas so we three went together. I parked in the empty car park by Granny's thinking "wow. Saturday night here is TOTALLY DIFFERENT from Friday nights." I arrived at 7:30 "Canadian time" - not "bajan time". Basically, I watched the cars drive by for about 10 minutes while walking to the gas station for a phone card. There were none there so I walked back to KFC. I crossed the road, took a seat and flipped through some exciting pictures of the independence day parade and the beach day until my friends called and said there were going to get there at 7:30 "Bajan Daylight Saving Time"...around 8. So I got up and walked to the gas station further down the road. 

This gave me time to rehearse some poems I took the time to remember - hand movements and all. Interestingly enough I discovered that talking to oneself does make one appear crazy. Man! So many people stopped and stared at me from their cars. But who's crazier, the person talking to him/herself or the person paying $50 to hear the same thing they could have for free? Anyways, as I was walking back to the rendezvous point two people were waving at me so I stopped and wondered, "who are these crazy people? And why are they waving at me?" Then I realised they were my friends. 

As we sat and ate in jovial banter the sights and sounds of Uncle George's stall light up as the grill burned under the fish and potatoes. Everyone was happy and the smell of grilled food clearly is distracting me from my blog. The food was good, the sauce was a bit on the unhealthy side but mmm...mmm...mmm! I left about 6 inches from the edge of my bench when a rasta showed up in the area. He had on a black sweater with ites, gold and green stripes and a Trinidadian bandana  around his locks. As his breath pervaded the atmosphere with rum, he sat on the 6 inches of space I had left for...myself...leaned over and took up our drinks. "Wait b we ain't done!" We screamed. He stopped and put back my Plus. Taking this as an invitation he again sat down and leaned over me and my food and with his mouth so close to my face that I could hear his thoughts and his arm on mine he asked us "So what's the vibration of the sajnfioasns...tion?" Say what?!?! We were all puzzled - even his thoughts were confusing. So he said it slower. "What is. The. Vibration. Of the alsfhkajsdh...ation?" All this time he's still leaning over my food with his arm on mine. 

I closed my container. "Man," he assured me, "You don't have to stop eating...I don't want any. Go on. Eat." At first I thought he was homeless and hungry but after that I didn't care. I somehow managed to swallow my pride along with other germs I don't even want to think about when I continued my contaminated Plus. The guy, Guy, continued with his speech mentioning Selassie I, dog - I assume in connection with him - love, peace, world, a couple curse words, more words ending in "-ation" and of course many unintelligible words. Then he asked us about the fishing disagreement between Trinidad and Barbados. Alfred, who is not Barbadian, didn't know about that so Guy changed the topic to Japan and nuclear weapons. I told him that no one troubled Japan because they can blow you up very easily - I think that's what he asked. (I was trying to get him to starve off of my disinterest but that wasn't working.) Alfred began to laugh because "he was happy to see Guy." Well, Guy wouldn't buy...*sigh*. Guy got agitated at the peace and love and laughter which had settled on the table and since he began to grow edgy we sadly left him.

We thought it would end here but we were wrong. We sat by another stall relaying our story to a friend we met who was talking about the races earlier that day, when we heard a baby crying - at least that's what it sounded like. On stage, walking around with a mic, chest puffed, eyes probably closed was Ozzy the great karaoke star. T.O.K. was clearly wrong. As Ozzy belted/scream/screeched "I Believe" I do believe I heard a couple of eagles crying - or at least he was how it sounded like when they did. 

It was 3 minutes of pure yet painful entertainment, climaxed with roaring screams of those scattered around the dance floor. We caught Ozzy as he took his coronation walk around Oistins. He wore a gold tropical shirt, tucked inside his two-sizes-too-big army green trousers hitched up at the third or fourth last rib by a brown belt. He squeezed his diet coke bottle and sucked the life out of it as he smiled at his witnesses. This gladiator, now emperor paraded as if to say "Ye, you know how we do it!" Then he disappeared. 

Many tried to accomplish what Ozzy had that night but they were all pathetic "also rans", auditory nuisances, the rungs Ozzy clearly stepped on to the top. Ozzy was so...Ozzy that the VJ had to pull up and run the track again! The crowd clearly missed him as others filled the time. They asked for him. They chanted "Ozzy! Ozzy! Ozzy!". And so, they sent a search party. We decided to leave after Ozzy sang a second time because it was late and we had our fill. If it wasn't for the lyrics showing up onscreen not many people would have imagined that he was remixing "My Heart Will Go On". His walk caused nothing but a smile on my face. I was truly in awe of this character. As he got to the part "my heart will go on and on" his voice gently rolled down at 'on' like a collapsing iceberg and the crowd erupted like the water underneath.

Of course all of this is recorded on camera and phone and probably uploaded to every social network around. Barbados is truly amazing. I'm proud and pleased to know that this is my home. It is one crazy place and only snippets bleed out to the rest of the world. Entertainment knows no bounds in paradise.

Make War

"I hear so many christians murmur about their imperfections and their addictions and their failures and their shortcomings and I hear so little war. Murmur murmur murmur. "Why am I this way?" Make war!" - John Piper

Looking back on my life as a christian, I have seen some dramatic twists and turns of events. I have seen leaps and falls, and defeats and victories. But in the end, my God stands and I am on his team. Whether I am standing or sitting or kneeling or flat on my face (or back), God has overcome and because of this, so have I.

Sometimes I wonder what life I'm living. To which category do I belong? I'm not a 'heathen', an unrighteous soul, because my fruit says otherwise, yet I question my christianity because of how hard it gets sometimes. Sometimes it feels like I'm slugging it out against the devil. All of that Romans 8:37 talk somehow flies out of my head with a lucky blow. When my arms get weary and my chest burns from the constant wrestle, my mind is far from thinking about streets of gold and rest. Because my flesh won't quit and somehow it rises with renewed vigour, I go, "what form of christianity is this?"

I really thought I was free from sin. What does freedom mean? Paul made it clear when he said "death no longer has mastery of us" in Romans 6:9; we are "no longer slaves to sin" (6:6); so we don't have to sin. Our first option is not to sin, neither is it our only one. We can now please God (Romans 8:7,8). But God is already pleased because of Christ's death - hence why he resurrected. So what am I fighting for? God's approval?

No. We fight because we were born again to. We were made to make war, not love - Love has already been given. Yet, because love has already been given, we are not exempt from trying. The doctrine of grace (total depravity, unconditional election, limited atonement, irresistible grace, perseverance of the saints...lka "once saved, always saved") does not allow us to say a prayer and do as we please. It is not the ticket to total depravity but it is followed by perseverance of the saints. Tenth Avenue North put it well:

"We are, we are, we're caught in the in between 

 But we're fighting for what we already have received.

 Looking for love, we're finding we're still in need.

 It's only what we have lost will we be allowed to keep."

Our ability to please God comes with the responsibility to do so. Romans 6:13 says "Do not offer the parts of your body to sin...but rather to God." The result is eternal life. So in essence, once saved always saved is the assurance that my humanity will never usurp God's rule on my life. It is permission to do God's will forever and to be confident in the fact that "neither height nor depth nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:39).