Something Was Different

If you were in St Ives this morning and happened to find your way to the Parish Church, you saw and heard something pretty spectacular. 

I first noticed that something was different when I saw a large group of people in choir robes inside the Lady Chapel. The Lady Chapel is small, and beautiful, and stands to the right of the Nave. Wow, I thought. This could be interesting. Their director was quietly reviewing how they would process behind the Cross, the incense, the Vicar, the choristers, and the Bible. Soon they were ready, and then, all became quiet. 

The man next to me whispered, "Do you know who they are?"

"No," I whispered back. "Do you?"

He pointed at the service sheet. "Music sung by the Anglican Chorale of Ottawa, Canada," it read.

"Ahh," I said, still whispering. Canadians! The Canadian organist just then struck the opening chords of the processional hymn, "Praise To The Lord", and the hair on the back of my neck just about stood up right then and there. Everyone's did, I am sure. What a glorious beginning to what would turn out to be an absolutely beautiful service, filled with music and words of forgiveness.

When it was over, we all gathered around the Canadians while drinking our coffee or tea, with cakes, and talking about the wonderful service we had just experienced. We didn't know these Canadians, but they sounded familiar and I certainly felt as though I knew them. They were humble, and smiling, and kindly answered our many questions. Nobody wanted to leave.

But I finally did leave, walking down Fore Street past the Post Office, the Moomaid Ice Cream shop and the Harbor, where about a million evil dive-bombers were poised to attack us from above. I witnessed multiple swooping attacks just on that one walk alone, and I say it was a scandal. The dive-bombing of sea gulls is one of those things about which Something Must Be Done. Even David Cameron (the last Prime Minister) said that Something Must Be Done, and I believed him. (He must have gotten distracted with Brexit, though, because he never did anything about the sea gulls).

I turned away from the carnage, and entered the tiniest coffee shop I've ever seen. It was adorable. There was room for the owner and 2, perhaps 3, customers inside. I ordered coffee, and quickly noticed that the topic of Brexit was being discussed. Can you believe it?

Someone was saying that anyone who voted for Brexit can only be described by two words, but they were not nice words, dear Readers, and I refuse to repeat them here. They said that they can sense a Brexiter coming through the door, before the Brexiter has a chance to say even a word. I didn't realize people could do that, did you? Clever.

I listened as best I could, but didn't come away with much - apart from the two words. I couldn't help but compare those words with the hundreds of gracious and forgiving words I had heard from the Canadians this morning. 

"And clothe yourselveswith compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." Colossians 3:12-14

Better. Much, much better.


See you along the Way!
the SconeLady