Nearly every year since our 25^th wedding anniversary, Chris and I have flown back to his homeland, Scotland. He’s a pilot and loves to travel, but I’m a homebody who traveled too much as a child. When away from home, I feel a bit lost and rudderless. I just want to stay put. So this week, I’m grounding myself in Scotland by calling or messaging friends back home in California.

I’m trying to comprehend that I’m here in the north of Scotland, finally, after all the weeks of preparation, worry, and stress. I’m truly here. This morning, I lingered in the kitchen after breakfast was over and Chris went up for his shower. I just stood “in the moment.” Chris often reminds me that I must live in the moment because it’s the only phase of life I can influence. I can’t change the past, and I can’t predict the future accurately. My gaze glided over the tea mugs on the high shelf, the Scottish biscuits (cookies) on the counter, and the white and purple chrysanthemums in the vase delivered by the owners. I’m here—I’m finally here. And in a week, I’ll be gone. How can this be real? 

The surreal feeling took me back to my missionary kid (MK) childhood filled with so much travel. Moving from one house to the next every couple of years. Flying to California for a year-long furlough after four years in Nigeria. Home felt like a moving target. At least we Joneses had a “home base” in Northern California. Some of my MK friends had to split their furlough time between several different states or countries because of their mom and dad’s differing roots.

The Benefits of Grounding

Yesterday, scrolling through Facebook (which is seriously a Wonderland rabbit hole, and after what I intended to be only five minutes of reading, I surfaced to find that, according to the clock, an hour passed) I came across a sponsored post about grounding. For thousands of years and in many cultures still today, people walked barefoot, sat on rocks, and even slept on the ground. This article declared their lives were healthier because they were grounded in Mother Earth. Nowadays we don’t go barefoot or sit on the ground, therefore we’re unhealthy, and the answer is this grounding blanket. I didn’t delve into it because the minute they said to plug it into the wall, they lost me. That does not sound remotely like it would generate the same benefits of walking barefoot on the beach. 

Anyhow, I digress. During the weeks we’re in Scotland, I don’t feel like a tourist because it is my husband’s homeland, and we’ve been coming here annually for some time. When he was five, his parents immigrated to California, and Chris has always dreamed of moving back. Every other summer, the Warrens would return to visit family in Scotland. And every other summer, relatives would visit California. The culture was kept alive in his mind. He wants to move here after he retires. He loves the cold, the wind, and the rain. And he likes to golf in the cold, the wind, and the rain. Thus, I’m trying to envision living here. Could I feel settled here?

Connections with Others

After our wedding in March 1985, Chris and I left the reception in a private plane, a Piper Malibu, flown by his friend Kevin. We spent two nights in a hotel in San Francisco then flew to London for a three-week honeymoon. There were no cell phones or internet, so I couldn’t communicate with my family and friends. It was surreal to be in London and Paris, before driving north through the English countryside with My Love, but unable to share it with others. After months of wedding preparation and the huge excitement of the wedding, then being suddenly cut off from everyone, I felt unsettled.

But I had one thing with me that grounded me. One thoughtful person at our wedding took nine Polaroid snapshots of Chris and me, our wedding party, and the reception filled with well-wishers. I clung to those photos and showed them to every waiter, hotel clerk, and shop owner, sharing details of our wedding. I needed connections with others. When they shared in my excitement, I felt less detached. I had to relive the moments to feel grounded in the memories.

For the final week of our epic honeymoon, we ended up in Scotland. There Chris’s parents hosted a fabulous reception—more like a second wedding—for which my mother-in-law brought my wedding dress. It was wonderful to be able to share our joy again with friends and family.

On our 25^th wedding anniversary, Chris and I left Andrew, Heather, and Robby at home and retraced our honeymoon. Since then, we have tried to come to Scotland every March for a few weeks. This year, we’re celebrating our 39th anniversary.

Just Living Life But in a Different Country

While we’re here, I don’t do too many touristy things. I do the same things I do at home, keeping up my health. I used to get sick every time we traveled to Scotland. Now I know I must avoid gluten, dairy, and sugar. Since my breast cancer diagnosis in 2014, I’ve focused on eating organic foods. I’m celebrating ten years cancer-free but now have serious osteoporosis. So we rent a self-catering cottage where we can prepare our healthy meals. Of course, I organize the three dozen vitamins, tinctures, and powders I take daily; stretch, exercise, and walk my three miles. Then each evening I call my mom to tell her what exciting things I’ve done.

We have our favourite activities. While in Inverness, I’ll pop into the charity shops and search for a special treasure of a china teacup, miniature cottage, or my latest obsession, a sculpted fairy. Chris will wander into the sports shop for golf balls or other accessories. Then we’ll meet up at Costa Coffee.

For the past twelve years, we’ve been renting a cottage in Drumnadrochit near Loch Ness. This small tourist town boasts two museums about the lore of the Loch Ness monster. The Loch Ness Centre debunks the myth, while Nessieland explores the possibility of a sea serpent swimming in the depths of the loch. Down in the village is Drum Farm, an old farm courtyard that has been refurbished into shops for artists.

Feeling Settled During Unsettling Times

I’m excited about touring Dunrobin Castle in Golspie, just north of Dornoch. Chris has booked a round of golf, and he’ll drop me at the castle and then pick me up when he’s finished his round. On the drive home, we’ll swap stories of our day. I’ll yawn through his play-by-play golf, and he’ll patiently listen to my chattering.

Many things about Scotland remind me of my childhood in Nigeria which had been a British Colony. I know to call potato chips “crisps” and French fries are “chips.” A sweater is a “jumper,” a truck is a “lorry,” and the trunk and hood of a car are the “boot” and “bonnet.”

As my mind drifted back to my early years, I remember that living at a boarding school was more unsettling even than moving from Nigeria to California every few years and moving to a new home twice within Nigeria. From the month I turned six years old, I had to transition from home to boarding school, back home, and back to boarding school—four times every year for ten years. There were no phones, so I couldn’t call home and could only write letters. In my first semester of first grade, I couldn’t even read my parents’ letters to me.

Then, in my last year of high school came the Big Rift. The big split. I call it a split because for many of us, it was like a split in personality or personhood. We MKs and TCKs knew we were only in Nigeria for our childhood and youth. We knew that our parents’ home countries were considered our “home.” And even though we could not fathom it, that is where we would likely live the rest of our lives.

Personal Connections Bring Grounding

But at that time, Nigeria was deep in our souls. Many of us were born in Nigeria, and we spent our formative years there. Our foundations were built there. Our roots drilled deep into the red, iron-rich soil of Nigeria. I envied my Nigerian classmates, and I cherished their friendship. I envied that they grew up in their home country. Even though they had to go to boarding school, which to me was a challenging living situation at best, at least they could legitimately call the beautiful country of Nigeria their own.

As I look ahead to the rest of my Scottish holiday, I know the one thing that will ground me is the friends I’ve made here. I’ve had reconnections with friends from Nigeria who now live in the UK. And I’m looking forward to special visits with Chris’s cousins and their families. These meet-ups are a precious time of catching up. And they always end too soon. After a year of staying in touch via social media, a three-hour in-person visit flies by too fast.

I’m trying to wrap my mind around the idea that Chris wants to retire in his homeland. Our adult children are in California, so my heart is drawn to stay there.

After mulling things over I said to Chris, “Perhaps we can live half the year in Scotland.”

He nodded. “That might work.”

Under my breath, I said, “And by half the year, I mean three months.”

As you can see, we’re still in negotiations.

Connecting with others is part of God’s design and why we need fellowship. His perfect plans for our eternity will be filled with rewarding connections with our Heavenly Father and fellow believers in our true home. There I’ll truly feel grounded.

To Read More

For the link to my first post about our trips to Scotland, click here . In that post of March 2018, I thank my new subscribers which then totaled 51. Today I have 550 subscribers. Thank you to each of you for joining me on this journey.