Found in Lostwithiel

Our wonderful guide Sylvia took us for a stroll along the cliffs at Tintagel
Castle after church. A-Mazing.

During my Great Britain stay, I attended four Sunday morning worship services in addition to scores of morning and evening prayer.  I spent two Sundays at Iona Abbey which, as noted before, were amazing experiences due to being part of an international community, being in a place where Christians have gathered for 1500 years, and hearing my esteemed teachers (John Bell and Padraig O Tuama) preach challenging and liberating truths of the Gospel.

The Sunday before Iona, my mom and I worshiped at Grayfriars Church (Church of Scotland) near Edinburgh Castle - selected because it was in walking distance from our cottage, had a late start time, and I expected the music to be excellent as it is a prominent church in a prominent city. I was not disappointed. The organ accompaniment and choral songs were beautiful.The congregational singing was strong, too. 

It was a fine experience of gathering with a small group of Christians (small in respect to a huge space: 40 people in a sanctuary that can accommodate 800) for prayer and song. But there is not much more I can say about it. The sermon was not particularly Christ-focused or thought-provoking (though I am leery to judge since we preachers all have off-days or seasons) and since it was Presbyterian, communion was not celebrated that Sunday. No one greeted us personally though I said hello on the way out to one of the ministers at the door; she responded politely. In that smallish group, we remained anonymous despite it being obvious we were first-time visitors.

Yesterday I worshiped at St. Winnow Church (Church of England) in the town of the same name, three miles west of the charming village of Lostwithiel of Cornwall.  My experience there could not be more different from Grayfriars. 

When I walked toward the church with my host and new friend Sylvia, the minister greeted me before I could get to the door. "You must be Monica or Lydia," he said. Monica is the friend with whom I am traveling, but was sick in bed with a cold that morning.  I answered, "Lydia." "Ah, yes," he replied. "You're the Lutheran minister from Connecticut, doing a sabbatical centered on the themes of water and wilderness." 

Wow! I was impressed to be this far from home, visiting a tiny town I'd not heard of before that morning, and yet be known. 

The parishioners I met before and after worship were just as friendly and attentive. I was fortunate to visit St. Winnow on a family Sunday (first Sunday of the month) which was also their harvest festival in honor of St. Francis.

The instrumental music was not a particular strength as far as organ accompaniment (music is provided by capable volunteers on a rotating basis - Sylvia is one of the rotating accompanists!) and there is not a standing choir.

 However, the congregation sang whole-heartedly, and I recognized most of the music, especially the Peruvian Alleluia (which Cannon John led call and response style) and the hymns "Praise God all creatures of our God and King" and "For the Fruit of all Creation."

It seemed as though everyone stayed for coffee hour (full of sweet and savory Cornish pasties) which was served in the sanctuary, but on the opposite side from where we sat. 

The rest of our too-brief stay in Lostwithiel followed suit. Sylvia, friend and godmother of dear Connecticut friends Ryan and Kathleen, could not have been a more thoughtful tour guide. She showed us, among other things, the cliffs of Tintagel, the old tin mines, and the moors of Dartmoor peering through the mist. She introduced us to fabulous Cornish cream tea and provided the most comfortable bed in her exquisitely cozy, hobbit-like cottage. 

We barely made our train to London as we squeezed in one last cup of tea during our sightseeing, but we decided the worst that could happen is we'd be stuck in paradise. 

Alas, we made our train which will deliver us to the hustling, bustling, historic, magnificent London. And, for a little while, we are back to being anonymous.

Walkway approaching  St Winnow church, surrounded by a beautiful river and signs of death and resurrection.

I am pictured with Cannon John and his daughter Becks.