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(or how I spent the holiday)
The Journey
Saturday morning. The alarm rings at 4 o'clock. I reach out to turn it off. I've slept so little! Everything hurts. It takes me a few seconds to remember why I wake up so early.
Ah, someone is waiting for me!
I move in slow motion, but I move. I check the documents. I close all the windows. At 4:30 I leave through the door.
Juji is waiting faithfully for me. My car. We set off at 4:37. I stop to pick up Lumi. If it weren't for her, who had wanted to go for a long time, I wouldn't have mobilized like this, at the last minute.
The sky is wonderful at that hour. Here, in the summer, the sun rises around 5:30.
We arrive in Calais a little before 6. At the barrier, automatic check-in. I see on the screen Good day and my name, confirm departure time and passengers, we confirm, it prints the check-in document for Juji. The barrier opens.
We slalom, following the arrows. Like at the airport, only here the car takes us. In the first roundabout, some young people explain what to do. At this hour, it's deserted.
The sun has just risen, it's big and red. It seems unreal.
French passport control: good day, on holiday? Just for the weekend, monsieur. The British one: good morning, what's the occasion for your visit to the UK? We're going to see a friend. Where? Ah, near Tiptree, to eat some good jam. We smile appropriately. Have a good trip. Only I know what my smile hides, what kind of friend and what kind of jam.
I head with Juji towards a kind of garage, where I see a car. A police officer comes towards me: no my colleague didn't send you to me, go further. Ah, there they do a thorough baggage check.
After more arrows as big as stadium billboards, another barrier. Then a slope.
Whoa, Juji, pay attention, we're getting on the train! And by train under the seaaaa!
Everything is as simple as saying hello. I get on the train, drive until the young stewardess stops us, probably an intern student or some summer job. Car next to car. At 6:24 we are on board. More than an hour before departure. We moved well! I open the windows, turn off the engine, pull the handbrake, put it in 1st gear, that's what the stewardess says. I rejoice at the thought that I still have an hour and a half to catch up on some sleep: an hour until departure and 35 minutes crossing the English Channel. I barely rest my head on the steering wheel when I feel us moving. How so? Well, like that. We're leaving an hour earlier!
I doze off for maybe 10 minutes, no more. We are already in England!
Juji, let's see if we still remember how to drive on the left. We two have only had this experience once before, in 2013.
Ah, well, it's simpler! says the tired girl. You keep to the left, in the slowest lane, as if you were in Lille, where you're a speed demon. Only here you behave, you go slow.
The satnav automatically adapts to miles. When I see 40 on the screen, I feel like a snail. In reality, I can go up to 70. Miles, right?
I only feel the need to take one break, because my eyes are dropping. In 15 minutes I'm fresh.
We should arrive a little after 8. But oh well, the satnav takes me to private land. Someone stops us. They ask me if we're going to the monastery. Yees, how do you know? (Considering how many people have made the mistake of entering their property!)
Just turn back, left, left and you'll get there. I back up among elderly tourists, ready to get into those golf carts.
Arrival and Reception
We arrive in time to park before the crowds come. The cars are parked very neatly, someone guides me to back in, me and those who come immediately after.
We take only what's strictly necessary and head towards the church.
I think of Anca and Cosmina, I took those two with me. I didn't tell them, otherwise Anca would have made me write, and I... I'm stubborn.
Oh my, I haven't been here for 9 yeeears, how much I've missseeed it!
When I enter the new church of the Friend whom I came to see, for his birthday, I feel so good, so good that I have no words left.
When I see in the middle, at the entrance, the icon of Saint Sophrony, almost as big as a man, I look into his eyes, at the stole like a field of flowers, I thank him for calling me on his birthday.
Then I read what his hands write:
„The greatest miracle in all the universe: the union of man’s heart with the spirit of Christ”
…and I cannot stop marveling.
(Okay, I knew, I mean I had read this before, but you know how it is, the longest journey is from the mind to the heart. Or, as Father Rafail Noica said, „I understand quickly but you have to explain a lot to me”.)
The wonder continues. Not wonder, as-ton-ish-ment! Simply put, there you enter outside of time. Into the Kingdom.
Here one can see la touche de génie de l’artiste saint or of the saint artiste, the only one who managed to combine them. To render perfection. I recommend the conference Prof. Jean-Claude Pollet about the brilliant saint, who knows how to address contemporary man.
For his day, of course, hierarchal liturgy, with a bishop who reminds me, through voice and speech, of our gentle Metropolitan Iosif, of Western and Southern Europe.
What more can I say? That I feel like constantly saying thank you? That I look at the cherubim and the saints and the light and I wonder what I'm doing here, I don't have a wedding garment, it betrays me, but how good it is that I'm here, that even dogs eat from the crumbs that fall from their masters' table, that I tell myself woe is me, how much I listened to a lying voice, instead of listening to the voice that always wishes me well?
After the liturgy, agape. People as many as leaves and grass! But order and harmony. Of course, moments of tension are not lacking, since we came here for healing. Someone takes my cup of kolyva while I'm away for a few minutes. And I get upset. At least let them eat it, I say in the end. Just don't let them throw it away. It passes quickly. What I want to say is how hard this struggle is with a way of being that you've gotten used to. Which isn't a way of being, in fact, but of not being. When you behave like that, you are not.
I could have gotten upset that I got upset, but I find myself thankful that it shows me I was wrong and that it shows me so quickly, without letting me fall into the trap.
At the agape I greet two nuns I knew from the past. Initially they don't recognize me. However, after I say where I'm from and what my name is, we talk a bit, they start to say, ah, yes, your face seems to tell me something.
Later, when I want to help in the kitchen, I ask what I can do, I'm told I arrived a bit late (accommodation had been found for us there, hallelujah! So we went to be shown the place), but, look, I can sweep. I ask where they keep the brooms. A sister gets upset with me when I ask and answers exasperatedly: I don't know! I apologize and continue to look for a broom.
Let's be clear: I really like washing dishes, but I absolutely detest sweeping. So I take this as a mini-obedience. Given how many gifts I received today, it would be absurd to comment. I don't even get upset with sister. I wonder, what exactly did I upset her with. The moi, the me of a few years ago, would have been furious if someone had spoken to her like that, moreover, a sister! Well, a person can truly change if they ask for help. Immediately. They receive it.
The Return
We leave during the paraklesis of Saint Sophrony, we have a long journey and cannot risk missing the train. When we exit the church, the bishop crosses our path precisely.
We're going to France. Have a pleasant flight. No, I'm driving, we're going by car.
Then safe driving back! :)
And it was, because if it wasn't, I wouldn't be telling you this.
Ana Birta