Church is Lovely

Weekend travel always comes fast and furious. Although it's fun to dive in and experience a new city, sometimes it's just good to stay home, too. Chris is eating himself through Paris this weekend, and I am here at the house, staring out of the open windows of my second story balcony. I just got through with Lunch and a three hour nap. Aren't Sundays glorious?

Yesterday, my friend Holly and I explored Portobello Road Market ( the largest antiques market in Europe, and the scene of a wonderful Angela Landsbury song in Disney's "Bedknobs and Broomsticks" -- remember that one? As well as the scenes of Hugh Grant in Notting Hill walking through the vegetable market.) Anyhow, it's a biggie. Fills the streets and buildings for about 10 blocks or so. Got some new shoes, some abalone earrings and a big blanket for picnics in Hyde Park. We met up with Dan and Alisha for a BIT at my apartment ( they finally found a place yesterday, yeah!) and then Holly and I and some other law school friends were off to see Spamalot at Liecester Square -- a play based on Monty Python's Holy Grail. While the play was good, the AC must have been broken and the last half of the play was sweaty sweaty.

Holly and I saw this little church on our way to the market yesterday, so I dropped in this morning to get me some more Jesus. What a fantastic choice. I seriously haven't been as Blessed by a gathering as this in quite a while. It was a small group. Maybe about 35 when all was said and done. I was greeted by Susan, a 40-something Anne LaMott type with cornrows flowing down to her butt and the most raw and beautiful spoken prayer. I sat next to Mary, a Phillipino woman who moved here 4 years ago when she married a British man. When we broke bread for communion, she shared hers with me. When the pastor spoke, a little boy ran around the back of the room and crawled on the floor and generally had the time of his life and noone tried to quiet him down. When we sang "Oh Happy Day" I channeled Lauren Hill in "Sister Act II" and clapped my hands as I harmonized with the 60 year old African woman on my right, dressed in traditional garb, and a black beret. The woman across the aisle, I didn't catch her name, but she sang regardless of the fact that she was having a really hard time keeping her false teeth in her mouth, and with every word, they came down from her gums and flapped around a bit. No matter. She was singing anyway.

It was just my type of meeting. No pomp or circumstance, or real program for the matter. Just people trying to get to know God better together. Lovely.