Reflecting on accents (even if you would rather not).

Living in a different country provides many opportunities to reflect on your accent and/or dialect, whether you want them or not. (Just to clarify, accent is the way you pronounce words, dialect is what kind of words you say; both vary according to where you are from. Yes, we all have an accent, all of us).

Every time I open my mouth, I get one of the following reactions:

1. Absolutely nothing. The conversation carries on as normal. Thank God for these people.

2. A slight pause. A blank look. Where are you from? I’m from England. Oh my gosh I love your accent! Thanks…

 3. A complete stop. Blank look rapidly morphs into a stare. Excuse me?  (I repeat the sentence). I’m sorry I don’t understand… what? (I repeat the sentence again, hoping one of my friends from category #1 is around to ‘translate’ for me).

 4. Immediate mimicking of whatever I just said.

This reaction can be further sub-divided as follows:

a. the gentle ‘imitation is the sincerest form of flattery’ kind of copying, often accompanied by some comment like oh that sounds so much nicer with a British accent. Or, you’re so funny, say it again! Say something British! And sometimes followed up with a funny question about Britain.

b. the slightly harsher ‘I’m going to copy every word you say’ kind of mimicking. Mostly accompanied by an it’s because I like it, it’s because I want to sound like you type comment. I remain skeptical about this. I think you just want to tease me, and my accent is an easy target. My usual response is to mimic their accent back to them. Childish, I know…

c. the outright mocking – stupid British people don’t even speak properly. They think they’re so much better than us, but they don’t even pronounce their ‘r’s’ properly. I got reprimanded by a seven-year-old American child once, for pronouncing the word directions ‘incorrectly.’ True story.

Whatever type of reaction I get provokes a reaction in me. From “thank goodness my accent isn’t going to be an issue to this person, we can be friends,” all the way through to “I know. I know I’m British. It’s not wrong, it’s just DIFFERENT. And THAT’S OK.”

I read this post recently, talking about the fact that when people pay attention to the way you say something, they are largely ignoring what you say. This happens to me on a regular basis. I’m trying to make a serious point, or even a joke, or maybe just be sociable and join in the conversation. Straight away a word or phrase I have said gets copied, and it completely undercuts any point I had to make.

Some days I don’t really care, but some days I find it hugely disconcerting. You just never quite know when someone is going to undermine what you said, even if you’re serious, by getting distracted by the way you said it. Some days, I would rather just keep my mouth closed…

Baking Banana Bread

I have found baking to be quite therapeutic of late. It’s such a comforting process. Someone else tells you exactly what to do and although it’s a creative process, the end results are entirely predictable and delicious. It takes enough concentration that you can’t think about anything else, but not so much that it is mentally exhausting.

This is what I usually make…

I use this recipe which is simple and easy. I use three bananas and don’t mush them too much – the chunks make for a really good flavour. In my oven, it only takes 50 mins to bake, rather than the suggested hour. I know other people like to add other things, like chocolate chips, to the mixture, but I’m a bit of a purist and prefer it as is.

It stays good for quite a while, but is best freshly baked and accompanied with butter or peanut butter and a glass of milk. If you’re in need of a little comfort today, I highly recommend it.

The Valley of Vision

 

Lord, high and holy, meek and lowly,

Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,

where I live in the depths but see Thee in the heights;

hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold Thy glory.

 

Let me learn by paradox that the way down is the way up,

that to be low is to be high,

that the broken heart is the healed heart,

that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,

that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,

that to have nothing is to possess all,

that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,

that to give is to receive,

that the valley is the place of vision.

 

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,

and the deeper the wells the brighter Thy stars shine;

let me find Thy light in my darkness,

Thy life in my death,

Thy joy in my sorrow,

Thy grace in my sin,

Thy riches in my poverty,

Thy glory in my valley.

 

Taken from “The Valley of Vision: a collection of puritan prayers and devotions,” edited by Arthur Bennett.

 

Dreaming…

Music is my second language. Maybe even my first. So many times I just don’t have the words I want to say, and I have to play flute or piano to get it all out. This is often the best way I can pray. My spirit can express something in music without my mind getting in the way.

Today was a day that desperately needed some music in it. My good friend Betsy seemed to sense this, headed over to my house with Starbucks and pastries, and then suggested we go to the music shop so I could try out cellos.

I love the cello. I have wanted to play since I was a little girl, and took lessons for a couple of years quite recently. But then Bible College kinda got in the way, and as I didn’t have a cello any more, it seemed like that phase was over.

But I just can’t get rid of the cello out of my head or my heart. I hear it all the time, I imagine how it would sound, what my soul could sing with that instrument, how I could provoke other people to worship Jesus with what I would play.

My previous instrument was a full size cello which I always found a little cumbersome, so I wanted to try out a 3/4 size today. I know that there is a slightly smaller sound with a smaller instrument, but honestly, when I got that little beauty in my arms, strings under my fingers, bow in hand, I felt like I’d come home.

Don’t misunderstand me now, I’m not a professional, or even a good amateur. I would need a lot of hard work to get to the place where I can play what I can hear in my soul, but it would be so worth it.

However, good cellos are expensive, and money is not something I have a lot of, or any of, actually. And as Betsy thought the cello probably wouldn’t fit in my purse, I had to leave it behind.

But still, a girl can dream, and in my head I sound pretty great…

Living in no man’s land

Never, in peace or war, commit your virtue or your happiness to the future. Happy work is best done by the man who takes his long-term plans somewhat lightly and works from moment to moment “as to the Lord.” It is only our daily bread we are encouraged to ask for. The present is the only time in which any duty can be done or any grace received. (C.S. Lewis, Weight of Glory).

So here I am again in no man’s land. The present season is rapidly drawing to a close, the next has not come clear yet. It’s familiar territory to me! I know that God will reveal in his own good time what the next steps are to be. In the meantime, I can’t worry about it. I can’t decide I’ll only be happy, or do what’s right once things are a bit more figured out. All I have is the present, all I have is today. And you know what? There’s grace enough for today. There’s provision for today. There are people to love and encourage today. I don’t want to be so consumed with the future that I miss out on the precious moments and opportunities today will bring.