To your right, you will see the British Consulate in Los Angeles, California where I was issued a 2 year visa for residence in the U.K. this past Thursday. (You also can see my mom in the bottom lefthand corner with the sunglasses on.) The building looks a bit grand and intimidating? I thought so upon entering, but I was greeted by complete kindness from each person I interacted with in the half hour or so that I was inside.
Mom and I arrived about 9:30 a.m.(Pacific) for my 10:00 a.m. appointment. We were directed to the elevator where a man cleared us to go to the 12th floor, home of the Brits who approve this important document of which I was in pursuit. After going through the metal detector, which thankfully did not pick up the butterflies in my stomach, though I hardly think any device was needed to observe this feeling (a set of eyes would have worked for anyone in my vacinity), we took a seat and waited to be called forward. The interview could not have gone smoother. I was prepared with a file-a-fax full of documentation verifying my qualifications as a missionary, my proof of income... I needed none of these items. The wonderfully British-sounding woman who called me to her window asked me a few simple questions, asked for my letters (a letter from Tate and Brooke, my supervisors in London, that officially invites me to join their team, and a letter from Young Life here to verify my employment), and typed information into her computer. My mind was blown! "Take this ticket and wait for my colleague to call your number so you can pay her. Then, come back between two and three, and pick up your visa." I have spent more time at paying my water bill or getting my driver's license renewed! Wow! You see a bit more why I thanked you over and over. So blessed!
Mom and I caught the bus down Wilshire Blvd to the Santa Monica pier and to the 3rd Street Promenade where we shopped a bit and ate some great pizza while we killed time between interview and pick-up of visa.
The next morning we awoke early to grab Starbucks and take a brief tour of some movie star homes and pop onto Rodeo Drive. I have a million pictures of houses that I cannot now identify who lives in them. But, trust me, someone famous lives in each one. I wouldn't lie to you! Yes, we went into the "Reg Bev Wil" for a brief moment. Some of you will get that reference. : )

We flew out later that afternoon and had a rather scary ride. I sat in the middle seat on row 19 attempting to read my latest Jane Austen novel, Emma, which takes much concentration. (Jane can get a bit lengthy in her descriptions, background info, and nuances...must be why I enjoy her writing so much, huh?) The beverages had just been delivered and all were settling in for a pleasant flight, when...drop! Yes, the plane dropped. The flight attendant standing at the end of my row fell to the floor with no opportunity to brace her fall. Another attendant who was closer to the rear of the plane, near my mom's seat, was thrown to and fro against the wall and sustained minor injury. Everyone who had a drink on his/her tray flew all over the person sitting next to them. ("Emma" and I got a bit wet from the passenger sitting on my right.) Apparently, a thunderstorm appeared out of nowhere and the pilot could not avoid it as he had hoped. Have you ever seen any of those made-for-TV movies about plane crashes and such? Though I try not to watch such frightening drama, I must say I have seen bits and pieces of one or two. I felt as if for a few moments, I was in a movie. Flight attendants and passengers alike screamed in the rows behind me. My stomach was tied in knots as I tried hard to transport myself back into old England and Mr. Knightley's obvious growing adoration for Miss Woodhouse, while praying the promise that the Lord alone makes me dwell in safety(Ps. 4.8). It honestly took me about an hour "to sit back, relax, and try to enjoy the rest of the flight" as previously directed by the flight crew. After the flight, I heard mom was completely drenched during the jostle with her freshly-poured coffee and also got to overhear the freaking out of all of the flight attendants throughout the remainder of the flight. (Sigh!)
We came out unscathed, full of thanks, and happy to be back on the ground. Our trip was a success and a blessing!
Perhaps in the next installment I will tell you a bit about our driver, Rulf, who was half Peruvian, half Columbian. He is married to a Japanese woman, and speaks three languages. What an educated, trivia-filled gentleman who helped calm my nerves on the way to the consulate by making me concentrate on understanding his thick accent as he told us facts about endangered condors in the California.