Movin' on up... er... out

Moving into a new blog, arranging things just how you want them, is pretty much like moving into a new place.  You put up wallpaper, hang up some inspiration quotes in key places, maybe a few throw pillows... Yes, blogs are a lot like appartments, only much less expensive.  I've done much more blogging than moving, but this fall moving into a new place is what I'm about to do. I'm beginning a Master's in Film Aesthetics at the University of Oxford - a dream come true! 

I've lived in Oxford before, during a year-long study abroad program while I was an undergrad.  So I'm pretty familiar with the area (and there aren't too many cities about which I can say that.)   But when I studied there before, I had the privilege of living in a beautiful brick house that was owned by my home university.  I lived with old friends and a couple of new ones.  It cost no more than the dorms back home.  It had a fresh flowers and an oriental rug.  It was a sweet, cushy deal.  And I was very thankful for it.

But reality just has to smack you in the face, don't it?  A year later, and here I am planning to go back to Oxford for another year, but there is no longer a nice, univerity-subsidised place to live.  At the moment I haven'tyet  found a place, but I'm looking into all the options.  Because Oxford is being 'slow as molasses' - to use a southern cliche - about giving me information about things like this, my most promising option seems to be to turn up at the graduate office on move-in day with a sleeping bag and a juice box, like it's camp, and say "Here I am!" 

I digress.  Oxford University owns some properties that are rented out to students, but not many, and they go quickly.  So my best option is to find an apartment on my own and/or finding housemates to share with.  Apartment-hunting for a first-timer is daunting, especially when you can't very well visit your new city to look at apartments in person. Check the locks, and such.  See if it gets afternoon sun. Hear the horror stories about how someone died in it.   

But I have the internet on my side!  And facebook and friends who live in Oxford who've given me a lot of good information.  Cost of living being what it is in Oxford, I'm trying to find that perfect balance between price and location.  Oxford has some dodgy areas, but of course those are where the most affordable flats are.  (Oh yeah, side note:  googling for "Oxford flats" will not turn up the information I have in mind.) 



Me with my housemates from last year at Oxford - all dear friends and lovely people.


The other logistical thing I have to get squared away is my student visa.  This one is a little easier than last time, actually.  I'm familiar with the application requirements, and more importantly, I know how long it should take to go through the application process and to receive the visa in the mail after it's been processed.  I can't start working on this, however, until I get a few more bits of information from Oxford, who, again, are dragging their wing-tipped feet.  So, while checking my email compulsively doesn't do much for my social life, I'm excited that all of this is becoming real.

At the end of the day, I know everything is going to be okay.  I'm praying through the things that are going to be logistically challenging, like apartment shopping from 3000 miles away.  But most of all, I am thrilled, exstatic, appreciative, and excited beyond words that I am getting to go to Oxford to continue my education.  All of this other stuff is just gravy, and God will sort out the things that I can't.  He's gotten me this far, so surely I can trust that the rest will be just fine. 

Sparrows and Peacocks: Not That Different

One of my favorite authors, Flannery O'Connor, wrote that the peacock "appears to receive through his feet some shock from the center of the earth, which travels upward through him and is released: Eee-ooo-ii! Eee-oo-ii. To the melancholy this sound is melancholy and to the hysterical it is hysterical.  At short intervals during the day and night, the cock...will give out with seven or eight screams in succession as if this message were the last one on earth which needed most urgently to be heard" (Mystery and Manners). 


Greek myth holds that the peacock was punished for its vanity by a goddess who cursed it with a horrible voice, so that when it bragged of its beauty, only the awful noise would come out.  Peacocks capture my attention because their hypnotizing beauty contrasts with their screeching voices and their awkward movements.  Flightless birds (though the peacock isn't entirely flightless) are walking contradictions.  A bird has always symbolized flight, freedom, grace - but a flightless bird, like the kiwi, the ostrich, and especially the extinct dodo, represent anything but. 


Matthew turns our attention to a very different bird, also lacking flight: the sparrow.  "Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall without your Father.  But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows" (Matthew 10:29-31).  What amazes me about this is that the Maker of the universe cares whether a little bird, smaller than a pine cone, should fall out of a tree.  There is nothing special about a sparrow to make one stand out to us, unlike the peacock.  But Matthew speaks volumes about God's love for us by drawing this contrast between sparrows and humanity. If God cares about a tiny bird, how much more does He care about us?  How much more does He value us?


Whenever I feel that I have been dealt an unfair hand by life because of the seemingly random things that go may wrong, this verse reminds me that nothing comes to my doorstep without first filtering through God's hands.  If He cares that the bird falls out of its nest, surely He cares when I fall down.  Birds have long been a useful symbols for writers, (and a thing of horror for Hitchcock, but that's another post).  Sometimes I feel like the peacock, and sometimes I feel like the sparrow.  Sometimes I grow very confident in my ability to provide for myself and to run my own life, but then I open my mouth and remember how foolish I sound.  Sometimes I feel like the tumbled-down sparrow, helpless to lift myself up.  In either case, I forget who I am in Christ.  I forget that I am a child of God, with the privilege of calling Him Father. 




Photo: Benson Kua