The day before we headed back to the U.S. a notification buzzed my watch: “A new health trend has been detected.” Curious, I tapped the button. A line chart of the previous five weeks of my resting heart rate came up. To be clear, I typically hover at a healthy 72–78 bpm. However, this “new trend” showed the day after we arrived in the U.K. and then consistently through the entire overseas portion of our sabbatical, my resting heart rate averaged between 60–65 bpm. Wouldn’t you know it, since the day we landed in the U.S., it has returned to 72–78 bpm.

Hold that thought.

Author Trever Hudson says, “We don’t change from experiences; we change when we reflect on our experiences.” This post is both a discipline for me and an attempt to turn the key on the lock of our sabbatical memories so they aren’t lost. As always, He is in every detail.

When people ask how our sabbatical went I find it best to start with superlative adjectives and see which, if any, they want to double-click on: “WONDERFUL“HARD,” “HOLY,” “REVEALING,” “MESSY,” and a “GIFT!” Five out of five Portnoys would do it again!

Now, if you are satisfied with that answer, stop reading here. If you are curious why I chose those six words, then buckle up!

Messy and Revealing

We learned the term “sabbatical” is a very elusive objective. It’s not so much a bullseye you hit as much as a journey in the present, requiring the past to inform it, in order to draw from in the future. Sabbatical requires you to lay everything down for examination: your duties, titles, responsibilities, time commitments, relationships, comforts, and distractions. By leaving the country, we also handed over, literally and figuratively, the keys to our car, house, dog, bills, and ministry, fully entrusting these things to a co-worker and friends.

This left five beloved and yet flawed human beings hopping on a plane together. It didn’t take long for us to see how flawed and human we really are. A quick killer of joy is expectations! Boy, did we have those, and they moved rapidly from unspoken to spoken.

The first five days we stayed in a ministry center in north London doing “Londony'' things while pushing through jet lag and waiting for our car to be ready. I could go into a lot of fleshly complaints about the start of this trip—all of our disappointments, long stuffy Tube rides, dashed anticipations, the exorbitant cost of things, enduring a heatwave without air conditioning. But as time goes on, London is growing sweeter in our memories. The really cool, beautiful, fun (hello, Premier League stadiums…come on, you Spurs!) have nudged out the tart moments. We were strategic in getting the major city out of the way so we could spend the majority of our time in the slow and steady rhythms of small towns.

After driving 2,000 miles around England and Wales, I know for certain, Ryan is my hero! We rented a car from a motor ministry (AMAZING financial blessing!). However, they didn’t tell us the only car they had was a stick shift and the air was broken. Ryan was thrown into the deep end, starting his crash course in busy London, on the opposite side of the road, and a flip-flopped gearbox. Our kids also had an “opportunity” to grow in patience and personal space as they were crammed together in the backseat. Viva European cars! It was uncomfortable, very hot at times, and stressful navigating. Apologies and grace were needed daily. By the final week, nary a complaint was heard. Everyone had submitted to the boundaries of the car and challenges of U.K. driving. Even this car was a part of our sabbatical refinement, and we are SO grateful!

We were optimistic the trip was going to spin in a better direction as soon as we left London. And it did-ish. But not before God, in His infinite kindness, exposed more of what was not serving us or each other well.

Hard and Holy

We spent 11 days exploring the breathtaking Jurassic coastline in the south, an absolute must-see area of England. We took several day trips to the coast, explored some castles, walked around small towns, ate fish and chips, and enjoyed the freedom of a large yard at our Airbnb. Some of the angst of the city melted off, the daily temperature dropped 15 degrees, and the stillness of our surroundings began ministering to our souls.

But then loneliness came calling, with its off-shoot cousins, boredom, sadness, disorientation, and confusion. Is this sabbatical? Are we even doing it? Why is it getting so uncomfortable?

I’m thankful for the training we received from ReachGlobal before we left. They told us to anticipate a phase like this. Although we are a very close family, we’ve never been totally removed from our community and had ONLY each other to rely on. (In a moment of clarity, I saw the Lord was giving us a very small taste of what most missionaries go through on the field, growing our empathy more.)

On these days, my journal entries were melancholy, pondering the opposing feelings battling within me. The kids navigated similar ups and downs. Squabbles broke out more frequently, and the level of offense in all of us rose steadily.

We were faced with ourselves with nothing or nobody to numb or distract us. Like a hot compress drawing an infection to the surface, our self-centeredness was drawing up all the unlovely and unholy places.

We left the southern coastline and headed north to a tiny, rural village named Wensley in the Peaks District National Park for another 11 days. Imagine every British period movie you’ve ever seen: endless rolling green hills dotted with sheep, quaint stone villages with bunting flags strung above the streets, castles and manors tucked throughout. It was here the Portnoys descended into the final stage of our flesh.

It happened at none other than Chatsworth House, the ridiculously stunning manor and grounds where “Pride and Prejudice” was filmed. You would think absolutely no one could have a bad day visiting this place, but you would be wrong. Very, very wrong. It had everything to do with a labyrinth maze and the expectations of a 12-year-old boy. There it was again…expectations. In Rhett’s mind, this labyrinth was going to be the MOST EPIC, HARDEST PUZZLE he’d ever solved. He could put up with seeing dumb Rembrandts and large, stuffy, ornate rooms if he knew he could face a real labyrinth.

Once it was in sight, he bolted ahead and entered alone. It won’t take much imagination to picture what his face looked like when he exited it three minutes later, fully solved. And that was the last straw for him. He articulated, with pinpoint precision, a verbal deathblow to my heart. I am not remotely vilifying my son here. It was only a matter of time before one of us did it. I fought back tears, Ryan and I discussed who would murder him first, and then we moved on and tried to enjoy the rest of our time, knowing full well our Airbnb was about to serve a gigantic platter of “Come to Jesus” when we got back.

Our family knows what was said around that dining room table. There were many many tears shed, confessed sin, forgiveness asked for and given, expectations articulated and surrendered. With unveiled eyes we all faced our humanity, our cloaked grief, how ungrateful and selfish we had become, and HOW MUCH WE NEEDED JESUS!!! It was by all accounts, hard and holy.

Wonderful and a Gift

That time around the table was a turning point. We made a pact to seek gratitude, and it transformed the second half of our trip into some of the richest days our family has ever experienced. The love and closeness we experienced together is hard to explain. My heart felt untethered and free. The simplicity and slowness of the sabbatical finally felt like a gift and not something to endure. Each of us settled into the final weeks unhurried and deeply connected.

The best was saved for last. We traveled to the southwest corner of Wales to the region of Pembrokeshire. Being of Welsh descent, I was excited to see where my side of the family came from. The Airbnb, believers we met, the church we visited, and the coastline won our hearts in a way no other place had.

We all stood overlooking the cliffs of Flimston Bay on our last day in Wales. Four seals frolicked in the water below us while wave after wave rhythmically massaged the shoreline. I was enraptured. The color variations of the water, the deep saffron yellow moss covering the rocks we sat on, vibrant pink, yellow, and purple wildflowers dancing wildly in the wind. All five senses were activated. I felt vastly small in proportion to the surroundings and yet so seen by God. None of us moved. We sat, we observed, we grounded ourselves in creation.

I’ve only felt this level of love, wholeness, and connection to the Creator two other times. I wanted to cry, laugh, and stay there forever, surrounded by my precious family and the raw beauty I was beholding. Our friend Brian Morykon wrote a line in his recent newsletter for Renovare that stopped me in my tracks: “Loose a tongue-tied heart.” That is the poetic phrase I need to honor that afternoon. God had indeed loosed my tongue-tied heart in complete Shalom.

There is much more I would love to share with you. I haven’t touched on the wonderful people we met, the three precious, deeply gospel-centered church bodies we worshiped with, the tender heart Ryan and I now feel toward the Welsh church. Reach out and we will share more!

Thank you to the couple that underwrote this opportunity for our family. You know who you are, but you will never fully know the impact this has had this side of glory. Thank you for the astounding GIFT you gave each of us. The Lord drilled a well into our family story we can each go back to and draw from for the rest of our lives. Thank you.

The Journey Continues

Re-entry has been hard and jarring. I can only liken it to when you have to hard shut down a computer. In June, the power button of our lives was held down and the screen went blank. Six weeks later we arrived back to the US, turned on our “life computer,” and with very little choice had to click “Restore All Tabs” and pick up the life we left. SO MANY TABS!

The full weight of this season is heavy and extremely demanding, and most of it we can’t set down. The same cycle we experienced in our early days in England seems to be repeating itself. We feel disoriented, lonely, and a little confused, but day by day we press in. It’s difficult to walk a slow and simple life right now, but pockets and days of it are not impossible to find. The Ebenezer stone of our sabbatical is a reminder the ever faithful Lord is with us. Sometimes it’s as simple as the color of moss or the dancing of wildflowers, He is with us.

So did we sabbatical? By jove, I think we did! My resting heart rate literally told me so.