A Cloudy, Sunny Day

It is a cloudy, sunny, day, today, in London, and I am learning that this is the way the weather works here. One minute the sun shines brightly, and then clouds form, rain falls, wind gusts. My roomate says the people here are obsessed with the weather, because it changes so frequently, and you must always be prepared for whatever the changes bring. I have learned to dress in layers, at least three of them--tank or tee shirt, long sleeved shirt, sweater or jacket, neck scarf. The women here wear beautiful and colorful scarves to adorn their clothing, and to keep them warm.

My search for flats was discouraging and frustrating, ending in my decision to share with another colleague from the states. One bedrooms run about 700-750 pounds, which is close to $1000-$1050, and that is exclusive of heat, electricity, and council tax! I decided that I don't want to be so stubborn and set in my ways that I need to spend half of my salary on housing, leaving little for travel. I am just going to need to learn to live in harmony with another person, to compromise, to share. It is a concept that is a bit threatening to my isolationist self! But it is probably healthier for me in the long run!

Work continues to be a challenge, as I am assigned more cases, and enter into the meat of the work of child protection in the UK. Their documentation requirements seem excessive and often duplicative, and I have never been a fan of paperwork, needless or otherwise! I prefer to interact with the people I am supposed to be serving, rather than justifying what I have done to someone above me. However, in light of the recent scandals here over abuses and deaths at the hands of perpetrators who were involved with social services, I understand their need to ensure everything is done to a certain standard. There are also many, many, interagency and interdisciplinary staffings, with the police, schools, health care professionals, immigration teams, housing teams, and any and all other professionals who may be interacting with a family. These staffings require an enormous amount of coordination and effort.

I attended a training this week on foster, adoption, and post adoption services, and was encouraged to see that they view the family much more holistically than we do in the states. Identity is very important to them, and because of that, transracial, even trans-cultural, adoptions, are rarely done. Once, the trainer said, an Ethiopian child was presented to be adopted by a family from Trinidad, and the judge said to the presenter, "do you have any idea how far Africa is from the Carribean?" There is a recognition of the need for the child to maintain some sense of his or herself as a member of a culture, and the idea is that adoption should enhance, rather than strip them from, their identity.

Another encouraging aspect of adoption here is that they preserve the connection between birth family and child. They have incorporated into their formal procedures a process where pictures and letters are traded one to two times yearly. In addition, children have immediate access to their birth records once they turn eighteen. There is a recognition of the innate yearning we all have to know who and where we came from, here, a recognition that seems lost in the U.S. I think it is because we live in such a punitive culture in the U.S., where there seems a need to disregard any contribution of the birth family and to punish them for their sin of giving up or losing custody of their children--but we punish the child as well when we do that. It so refreshing to find that a perspective I have fought for years to promote is accepted practice here.

There are many other things I love about living here, inluding the immersion in the worlds of so many different kinds of people. I love that the mix of culture is not only tolerated, but celebrated, here. I love that I can pick up a newspaper and have ready access to world events. I love the groceries here, with their brown, baked, breads, cheap, organic, fair trade fruits and vegetables, and endless varieties of rice!

I have been attending some meetings of a fellowship I belong to, and have found the people to be kind and warm and welcoming, a contrast to the stereotype of the cold and formal English style. Yesterday my roomate brought me some flowers from her garden to cheer me up, when she found me crying after I had found some pictures of Mom and Debra on my computer--pictures I have tended to avoid. People with cars often offer rides, going out of their way to bring me places. It is such a treat, now, to ride in a car!

I will be in a new home within the next month, and am looking forward to creating my very own space.

I am headed to church at Unity, now, two bus rides and forty minutes away. But it will be worth it to worship with a community of like-minded folks. Mom and Debra will be there with me, I'm sure, repeating the affirmations and prayers they came to love and know so well.