London

Sewing at the foot of the city

Coming back to London is often daunting. We hop off the tube at East Ham and are instantly confronted with homelessness, gambling addiction, alcoholism and  broken lives. Not to mention my pet hate, certain cultures believing it's fine to spit and throw rubbish on the street (arghh). It's like constant culture shock, each time we come back from visiting elsewhere. 

This past month we have been given the choice of moving, partially out of necessity. We prayed a lot, made lists and really dug into the reasons we are here. 

We realised that we feel ownership over this place we live, we care about these people, we want to see their lives  changed. It may mean we can't buy a house like lots of our friends, or that friends who stay from out of town will never be able to sleep in our noisy flat. That we may have someone living under the stairs in our block. We accept that the black soot that rests on our white windowsills is probably also inside of our lungs. I may not get to have a vegetable patch in my non existent garden!

But over the last few days I've caught glimpses of sights that you can't see anywhere else, that you don't get the joy of if you live out of the city. Orange sunsets reflecting off skyscrapers. The haze that falls over the docks.  Friday afternoon as all the children are let out of mosque. Houses lit up with lights ready for a wedding, and all the beautiful clothes that follow. Walking to the nearest shop at 11pm and the street still being busy. Having so many things and opportunities at your fingertips. The feeling of ownership you get when you pass people in the street you know and say hi. The smell of curry that drifts through our windows.

I just need to remind myself of this, often.