Christy Miller Collection Vol 4 Part 33

Later that evening, at their opening meeting in Carnforth Hall, Doug's prediction was confirmed. When the director read the team lists aloud, Doug. Tracy, Christy, and Katie were all together with three other guys and one more girl. Their team a.s.signment was Belfast, Northern Ireland.

"I don't believe it," Katie said under her breath to Christy. "That's exactly where I wanted to go. This is perfect! I feel like I already know about Belfast from everything Michael told me last year."

Christy remained silent as the rest of the a.s.signments were announced. It was fine for Katie to feel good about the a.s.signment because she had dated a guy from Belfast, but Christy felt disappointed. Or was she a little frightened? Belfast wasn't where she expected to go. She didn't know where she expected to go. Sweden, maybe? Or Spain? Ireland didn't feel right.

"Find the rest of your team members," the director, Charles Benson, said. "We'll gather back in this room in one hour."

Doug's name had been listed as the team captain, and he immediately began his role as organizer by calling out, "Belfast! Who's on the Belfast team?"

Other team leaders began to do the same, calling out their cities. "Barcelona, over here." "Oslo." "Amsterdam."

"Edinburgh!" It sounded like an international train station, as chairs were shuffled and everyone began to mingle.

Christy felt overwhelmed for the first time on the trip. Perhaps jet lag was finally catching up with her, or maybe it was reality catching up. She was standing in an ornately decorated drawing room in an old English castle. After a week's training, she would be on her way to Belfast. It hit her like a gust of wind, nearly knocking the breath out of her.

"Okay, great! Belfast is all together. Let's grab those chairs over there by the windows," Doug said.

They weren't just windows. They were castle windows, six long columns reaching to the high ceiling with ornate woodwork laced along the top. The thick floral drapes hung to the floor. The blue couch and chairs in front of the window were ordinary enough, which was a good thing. Christy was beginning to feel the way Katie had in Charles d.i.c.kens's home: new-experience sensory overload.

"I'm Doug, and this is Christy, Katie, and Tracy. We're all from Southern California," Doug said once the eight of them were seated. "Why don't you guys introduce yourselves?"

"I'm Sierra," the girl next to Tracy said. "I'm also from California, but I'm from northern California. Pineville. I know you've never heard of it. No one has. It's a very small mountain community near Lake Tahoe. I grew up there, but while I'm on this trip my family is moving to Portland, Oregon. So I'm sort of from California still."

Christy immediately liked her. She had wild, wavy, caramel-colored hair, a freckled nose, and a natural, approachable demeanor. There was an earthy, honest quality about her that was reflected in her jeans, cowboy boots, and brown leather jacket. Somehow, on her, the outfit worked. Even her unusual name seemed like a perfect fit.

"I'm Gemot," said a tall, thin guy with a definite accent. "I'm from Austria. My home is not far from Salzburg."

"My name is Ian, and I'm from England, but I'm living now in Germany." Ian reminded Christy of a professor. with his thin nose, wire-rimmed gla.s.ses, and thick gray wool sweater.

"And I'm Stephen. I also live in Germany, where I am going to school with Ian. And I'd like to say we must have the best team here since all of our girls are from America." He smiled, and his previously somber face turned into a splash of sunshine. His dark hair was combed straight back, and he had a goatee, which made Stephen seem older than the rest of their group.

For the get-acquainted hour, each of them told why he or she had come on the trip. Katie seemed to come alive, with an animated description of her motivations for coming and why Belfast was the perfect place for their outreach. The two German guys seemed thoroughly entertained.

Christy stammered a bit when it was her turn to share. She said she wanted to find out what G.o.d had for her life and if maybe missions should be a part of it. Aside from that, she couldn't give much more of an explanation. The trip seemed like a great idea when Doug suggested it, and the money had come in on time, so she thought she should go.

"My reason is kind of the same." Sierra said. "It all worked out. I guess I needed to get a dose of the big world out there that I've never seen. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I'm hoping this trip will help give me some direction."

Now Christy knew she really liked Sierra. She felt as if she'd just discovered a kindred spirit. Christy smiled at her. Sierra smiled back. Their friendship was sealed.

It didn't really hit Christy where she was until the next morning. She woke up before the alarm sounded and, through bleary eyes, gazed around the second-floor dorm room. The seven other girls who shared her room were all still asleep.

I'm in England. I'm in a castle. I'm not dreaming.

She remembered a wish she had made at summer camp two years ago while in a canoe in the middle of a lake. She had said she wished she could go to England someday and visit a castle. And now, poof! Here she was in England, and for the next week, this castle was her home.

Christy stuck her legs out of bed and padded to the window in stockinged feet. It had been cold last night. Despite her warm sweats and thick socks, she had felt a damp chill while trying to fall asleep. Now, tiptoeing to the frosted windowpane, she caught her first daytime view of the grounds surrounding Carnforth Hall. Even through the frost, the world beyond her window was beautiful. Storybook-like.

She gazed at the acres of icy green meadows stretching out below her. Gnarled trees lifted their leafless branches toward the gray sky. and thick moss clung to the tree trunks and fence posts. A fine mist enveloped the entire scene, making it look like an Impressionist painter's work. It was all so different from the warm beach climate at home. She loved it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sierra whispered over Christy's shoulder. Christy jumped. She hadn't heard Sierra approach. Christy nodded and smiled.

Sierra stood a few inches away. She wore her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like an Indian maiden and stared out the window with a contented look on her face. I'm so glad I'm here."

"Me too," Christy whispered back. "And I'm glad you're here too."

"This is going to be quite an experience, isn't it?'

Just then someone's alarm went off, and a groping arm shot out from under a blanket and slapped at the bedside table several times before hitting its mark.

"What time is it?" Tracy called from her burrow beneath the warm blankets.

"Six-thirty," came the m.u.f.fled response from the alarm slammer. Breakfast is in an hour."

"Don't you wish they would serve us hot tea in our rooms?" Sierra asked with a giggle.

"I know," Christy agreed. "That would sure take the edge off this morning chill. I can't bear the thought of having to take off these sweats to get dressed! I just want to add more layers and put on my boots."

"Why not?" Sierra said, her freckled nose scrunching up. "You could start a fashion trend. It sounds pretty practical. It might catch on."

Christy decided against starting a new trend and managed to quickly change into her leggings, her warmest black pants, several layers on the top, and two pairs of wool socks. Castles may look enchanting, but Christy decided they can be freezing!

The group a.s.sembled for breakfast, all forty of them, in a small dining room. A large chandelier and three up-to-the-ceiling windows brightened their morning meal. Christy was happy to see a pot of hot tea already placed at the center of each table with a small jug of milk and a bowl of sugar.

Doug sat next to her, wearing his favorite green and blue rugby shirt with a white turtleneck underneath. Tracy joined them, her short hair perfectly holding its shape and her cheeks looking especially pink. She sat across the table from them, and after the prayer and a song, Doug asked Tracy her opinion on how to organize the team, which she gladly gave in her sweet, well-thought-out manner.

It bugged Christy that Doug hadn't asked her opinion. However, if he had, she wouldn't have known what to say. She hadn't thought about it at all. Obviously Tracy had.

Doug used Tracy's ideas when their team met after breakfast. "Before we get going, I wonder if each of you would feel comfortable giving your testimony. You know, say a little bit about how you became a Christian, what G.o.d has been doing in your life since then, and what your spiritual gifts are, if you know. Who would like to start?"

Each member of the group told his or her story. All were different and interesting. Christy was the last to share.

"My family always went to church, and my parents are Christians. I guess I knew all about G.o.d. Only it was like He was all around me, but not inside me, if you know what I mean."

Christy told about meeting Todd, Doug, and Tracy on the beach the summer she turned fifteen. She explained how Tracy and Todd gave her a Bible for her birthday. It was nice having Tracy right there as sort of a visual aid for her testimony.

"Then the day after my birthday...well, some stuff had happened that made me realize I needed G.o.d to be more than just someone who was watching me from a distance. So I surrendered my life to Him. I guess that's the best way of saying it. I just gave everything to G.o.d and asked for His forgiveness for my sins. I promised Him my heart. My whole heart. Forever."

Christy didn't expect the tears, but suddenly they were there, filling her eyes. Doug reached over and gave her a comforting hug. Her mind flashed back to the night after she had given her life to the Lord. Doug was sitting beside her by the campfire on the beach that night too. He was the first one of their crowd to congratulate her on becoming a Christian, and his hug that night had felt just as warm and rea.s.suring as his hug did this morning.

Something bothered Christy though. Something deep inside. She knew her tears came from something other than joy. They had been swallowed long ago, maybe not all at once, but slowly. Deliberately. Stuffed deep inside her heart.

She wanted to leave the room, run outside, go for a long walk, and dig to the bottom of her emotional treasure chest until she found where those tears came from.

The rest of the group apparently thought she was moved by the miracle of her salvation, because all of them began to give words of comfort and rea.s.surance. Everyone but Sierra.

Sierra's testimony had been straightforward enough. She grew up in a Christian home, asked Jesus into her heart when she was five one night in her bedroom with her mom, and had been a good girl ever since. Could it be there was something in Sierra's heart that connected with Christy's?

Christy stayed in her seat and partic.i.p.ated with the rest of the group in planning out the first stage of their training. Her soul-searching would have to wait. Their preliminary a.s.signment was a week away, next Sat.u.r.day. They were to plan a daylong outreach in a small town nearby. In conjunction with the church that was hosting their team, they were to present a drama, some music, a program for the children, and an evening message. This was a miniature version of the kind of ministry they would be doing in Belfast with a local church.

Katie immediately volunteered to head up the drama, and Sierra and Stephen jumped in, saying drama was their area of interest as well. Since Doug was the only one who could play a guitar, he accepted responsibility for the music. Tracy offered to help him. Ian, who looked the part of a professor, wanted to try his hand at the evening message. Gemot suggested that he head up a game of soccer with the boys of the town to draw them in for the evening meeting. All that was left for Christy was the children's program. That was fine. She had worked many hours in the toddler Sunday school at her church, and she liked little kids.

"That was easy," Doug said, checking his watch. "Well, we have morning chapel in about fifteen minutes. I'll try to hunt up an extra guitar around here. Our team has lunch duty, so go to the kitchen right after chapel."

Christy was glad the chapel was in a different building. It meant bundling up and taking an umbrella, but the walk helped clear her head a bit.

Even in the frost, the garden seemed beautiful to her. Neat rows of trimmed rosebushes lined the walkway. She was sure that in the spring and summer this would be her favorite place. She pa.s.sed under an arched trellis with some kind of barren vine woven through the latticework. She thought of the fragrant jasmine that climbed up the posts by her front porch at home, and for the first time, she missed her mom, dad, and little brother. She had sent them a postcard from London. Today would be a good day to write a real letter.

The chapel was situated at the end of the garden walkway. The fine, old stone building had once served as a church for the castle's household.

Entering the chapel through the thick wooden doors, Christy felt the same reverent awe she had experienced at Westminster Abbey. For hundreds of years this spot had been a place of prayer and worship, and now she was one of the many who had entered in and sought the Lord.

Christy sat alone on a solid wooden pew about halfway toward the front. Instead of an altar at the front, there was a stage with microphones and a keyboard. At first glance it seemed out of place. But within a few minutes the chapel began to fill with other students, and several musicians stepped up on the stage to begin to tune their instruments.

"Are you saving this seat for anyone?" a girl with a big smile and very short blond hair asked. She wore a sweatshirt that said "Aika on kola." Christy couldn't begin to guess what language that was.

"No." Christy automatically said, not even thinking that Doug might have expected her to save him a seat. "My name's Christy."

"I'm Merja. I'm from Finland. Where are you from?"

"The United States. California."

"Really? Do you surf and drive a convertible?" Merja asked with a teasing smile.

"You've been watching too much TV." Christy said.

"You live in Beverly Hills, don't you?" Merja asked, still teasing.

"Not exactly. However. I do know several guys who surf, and my aunt and uncle used to own a convertible. Does that count?"

"Close enough," Merja said. "We can be friends now. I'm on the team going to Barcelona. Where are you going?"

For the next few minutes, the two new friends enjoyed a lively conversation. Christy was enjoying this opportunity to make friends with people from all over the world.

When she glanced up on the stage, she noticed Doug standing there, guitar in hand, tuning up with the rest of the band.

"Let's start off with some praise choruses," the group leader said. "This first one is from Psalm 5-"

The singing sounded majestic in the small chapel. It was the first time Christy had felt like everyone was part of one group as they sang these familiar choruses, all in English but with a variety of accents.

Doug kept up with the rest of the band. Apparently he knew all the chords to the songs they played. At one point he looked up and cast his little-boy grin into the crowd. She thought he was smiling at her, but the look seemed to go over her head. Christy slowly looked over her shoulder between songs and noticed Tracy sitting two rows behind her.

Oh, it's Tracy.

Now she wondered where Katie was, and if everything was cleared up between the two of them. She guessed it would become evident as the week went on.

She didn't have to wait long to see. After chapel their team a.s.sembled in the kitchen. Within two minutes, Katie and Tracy were disagreeing over how the tables should be set.

Mrs. Bates, the white-ap.r.o.ned cook, stepped in and made it clear. "Knife only on the right side. Fork only on the left side. The spoon goes above the plate, like this."

"But that's not how we do it at home," Katie protested.

"You are not at home." Mrs. Bates said firmly. With a twinkle of good humor in her voice, she added, "This is how we do it here. And for this week, this is your home, and I am your mother. So mind your mother!"

Tracy had every right to say "I told you so" to Katie. But she said nothing and calmly went about setting her tables while Katie walked around her table, resetting each place with the spoon above the plate.

Suddenly Katie blurted out, "You guys, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm being like this. I keep trying to make everything familiar, and it's not. It all seems so weird to me."

Oh no, there she goes with the weird thing again!

Christy thought Tracy would arch her back like a cat. She didn't. Instead she quietly stepped over to Katie. "I know. It's not easy fitting into another culture, is it?"

"I don't see you having such a problem with it. I don't see anyone else having a hard time." Katie waved her handful of knives around the room. "It's just me. I don't fit in here."

Doug had proven to be a wonderful counselor more than once to Katie. He stepped in and put his arm around her. "Can we talk in the other room, Katie? I think these guys can set the table without you."

Katie let her knives drop loudly onto the table. "Yeah, they'll do a better job without me." She walked out of the dining room with Doug's arm still around her.

The rest of the team went about their lunch duties without saying much.

Tracy came up to Christy. "Could I talk to you sometime?"

"Sure," Christy answered. "Right after lunch."

Lunch was the main meal every day, and today it was sausages, scalloped potatoes, and once again, mushy peas. Doug and Katie had returned to the dining room in time to eat, and even though they sat across the room. Christy could tell Katie had been crying.

As soon as the team had finished their cleanup duties, Tracy and Christy headed for a sequestered nook with a padded bench seat. A tall, arched window beside them opened up a view of the lawn that stretched all the way down to the brook. Beyond that was the forest.

"I wanted to ask you something," Tracy said.

Christy liked Tracy, with her gentle yet direct manner. The two had shared many meaningful conversations over the years, and this felt like it was going to be one of those heart-to-heart talks.

"What can I do to change things with Katie? I feel awful. I thought London would be so fun with you guys. And it was, in a way. But the whole time I felt like Katie was mad at me. I don't know what to do."

Christy tried to accurately represent one friend to another. She found it wasn't easy. "I know Katie doesn't want to be acting, well...for lack of a better word, *weird.' I guess this trip is harder for her than she thought it would be. I don't think it's you, Tracy. I think it's everything being so different. This doesn't seem to be Katie's cup of tea, so to speak. I know she's trying though. I don't think you could do anything differently than you've been doing it."

"Every time I open my mouth, I seem to offend her," Tracy said. "I don't know what the problem is. What do you think I should do?"

"I think you two should talk. You're both special friends to me, and I'll be honest, it has bothered me that things have been tense. I think the two of you should sit down and talk."

"Do you want to be there?"

"I don't think that would help. It would be better if it was just the two of you."

Tracy let out a sigh. "I guess you're right. I'll try to talk to her this afternoon. Pray for us, okay?"

"I will." Christy squeezed Tracy's hand, and the two friends sat silently for a few minutes on the tapestry-covered seat, gazing out the window.

"Can't you just picture some princess sitting at this very seat hundreds of years ago, waiting for her prince to ride up on his white horse and whisk her away to the ends of the earth?" Christy said, swooping her hand through the air in a dramatic gesture.