Get Me To the Church

I have two "Wendy" friends, Big Liver Girl and the Reverend Wendy. The Reverend Wendy really is an ordained Anglican minister, and is about as much fun as I think the Anglican church will allow. (Big Liver Girl Wendy is a licenced physiotherapist, so I pretty much have my physical and spiritual needs covered when it comes to my Wendys.) I'm Catholic, and Big Liver Girl is United, so and Anglican service was all new to us.

Big Liver Girl decided that it was time we went to see the Reverend Wendy preach, so we roused ourselves out of the house last Sunday, and drove up the road a bit to see her. She had no idea we were coming, so you should have seen her eyes sproing out of her head when she found us sitting in her church. (I should be so lucky as to get that sort of welcome everywhere.)

The Reverend Wendy's church is a lovely little jewel of a church; a hundred-and something- year-old stone and pine affair in the country, that smells exactly like a church should. It is smallish, with lots of stained glass windows, and it looks pretty much like I expect it looked when it was built.

It was the Rememberance Day ceremony, so we sang "God Save the Queen" and "Oh, Canada", and you could tell people really meant it. Actually, all the hymns were good...church is the only place I'm allowed to sing with the gusto I enjoy, and it pleases me mightily when I have good material.

It has come to my attention in the past that Big Liver Girl and I should NEVER, EVER find ourselves in situations where A) solemnity is important, and B) we should be quiet. We are masters of neither. I don't think we made it past the first reading before she whispered something in my ear that had me weeping with laughter and had the pew rattling off the floor. Seriously, she's a menace.

There was a teenage couple ahead of us that had us utterly enthralled. They must have started dating the night before, because he couldn't keep his hands off her, and she was very happy to let him. Big Liver Girl wondered aloud if they thought, perhaps, they were at a drive-in, rather than church on a Sunday morning. I'm pretty sure that wouldn't be allowed at a Catholic mass...man, I remember when it was a big deal to wear jeans to mass, let alone snuggle with your sweetie. And, also? they were drinking coffee. During the service. Those Anglicans are wild, I tell you.

After the ceremony, we went up to the hall, where they had lunch set out! It was fabulous! The Wendys and I sat and talked for while drinking coffee and eating some pretty wonderful carrot cake with cream cheese icing. It was marvelous.

I can't remember the last time I had that much fun at church. Sorry, Irish-Catholic ancestors.