The city I once saw as a lost child has too changed, found it's adolescence and walks with a more confident stride. The semi autumn is beautiful, balmy days and chilly sunsets are such a cry from the hazardous snow or the wilting heat. 18 months has seen much growth, places that sat in darkness have come to light and the area I once felt called to bring hope into now laughs with children and is lined with the signs of freshness and restaurant tables. There are other signs of movement too, influence of the world patchwork skin tones, and, perhaps I am becoming accustomed, but my presence seems to attract less stares. I can only say that that the city is finding its own style. It's stretching it's skin and finding that perhaps it's not such a bad shape to be after all. The grass may be greener, and I firmly believe that this attitude will take quite a while to change, but we have grass here and after all it's just green stuff. My life is being adopted into that of Željko's, his friends welcomed us both with huge hugs and much excitement. I have had a gentle re-introduction to this world of a different tongue, most friends have come our way and chatted in English to me, shared stories and heard about endless castles that formed our honeymoon. Željko has stayed close by and though the task ahead is daunting I feel like I now have sufficient tools.
We have moved into gran's flat in the city, which she has relinquished to go stay with Željko's mum for the time being. It's a hoarders flat, causing much mirth, especially the first night as we tried to fall to sleep to a veritable orchestra of ticking clocks. Laughter aside is is a wonderful generous gesture and we hope to mend cupboards, refit sinks and perhaps even replace a piece of furniture of two. I have the beautiful and yet slightly daunting task of completing thank you cards/notes to everyone this week. We have been astounded by peoples generosity and feel so privileged to have received so much. Any thanks we can offer seems so insufficient.
The last two and a half weeks have shown me such a lot about the communities I have found a place in. The stories of individuals and the unseen, unacknowledged acts are a real testament to the power of community and a real glimpse of heaven for me. There was heaven in the ordinary (stealing an old greenbelt theme), and I saw it. It unfolded in children picking flowers with relative strangers to give to their mum, in new white aprons, and airport conversations, in rushed goodbyes with out of place clothing, and baskets of flowers that sat unnoticed. It danced with parent figures who sat up for children they had met only days earlier, and twirled in handmade gifts from faces that were openly unnameable. This heaven had nothing to do with the dress I wore, or the centralisation of two figures having their wishes granted. This heaven was played out in the sidelines, in the whispers between mouthfuls, and the yawns before bedtime. And it's a challenge, it's a threat to our everyday complacency. It demands that we don't put it to one side and pretend we can't be that radically ordinary, and as it was the start of our lives, of the tale of Željko and Kate, it's set the tone for the story. And it changes my perspective, just like reading 'the ordinary radical' did before I set out to serbia, this outplaying of it now leaves me not wanting to try, but challenges me to keep it going. It's wheels are in motion and as we talk about our future and discuss options I find myself re-coloured by the realisation of what happened.