Anderson, South Carolina
The simplest thing can lead to spectacular life experiences; junk e-mail yielded a grand prize journey of thirty days air travel anywhere in the world for two. From a million offered choices, Britain won hands down. The simplest thing gave rise to the highlight of this spectacular journey; a hand-lettered sign board saying “church open” next to a pot of flowers. Walking by St Mary’s Parish Church in Fishguard on a bright Friday afternoon gave me pause. As one who has been in fifty countries making photographs, this was most unusual to see. So often I find churches locked tight and unwelcoming. I tried the oak door and found it as advertised - unlocked.
From this simplest gesture on the part of St. Mary’s, not only did I ‘harvest’ fine images of the church’s beautiful windows, I was admitted into a radiant fellowship of welcoming people. Initially finding the church empty, I went about my business of photographing the windows. Several engaging members soon came in, watering plants, organizing for a fall festival. In short order I was immersed in true fellowship, moving me from my role of observant tourist to joyful participant. St. Mary’s Parish was suddenly ‘my’ church as well. Dick Russill and his delightful wife invited me to a Harvest Festival dinner and entertainment that evening in the parish hall. I ended up walking five miles to that dinner across steep terrain. It was worth every step of the journey. I was greeted with warm smiles of surprised recognition and embraced with affectionate Christian fellowship, topped up with culinary wonders, plied with amazing tales from church members, and given a lift back to my abode with a bag full of food for my hosts. I was off the tourist grid, the best destination of all.
An invite to Sunday morning activities was equally surprising and truly rewarding. Smiles of recognition greeted me at the unlocked oak door and I was immediately escorted forward to a pew with gracious people, people I was told would be giving me a lift home, parishioners who ended up offering me the highest order of hospitality, giving me lifts over the next several days, sharing their table with me repeatedly, even giving me Internet access a number of times. Most importantly, I found true Christian community in the pew, at table, and even in cars as I was given lifts to assorted distant places.
Going back to ‘my’ new church one day for a few moments of time out I found a simple altar where one could write out prayer requests and pin them up. Something told me that my prayer requests would actually be brought before the Throne of Grace; not left unattended to curl up with the ages. I took a small beach pebble from a bowl to keep in my pocket; reminding me I really do have a church home in a distant land.
I will certainly hold onto memories of that harvest meal and my experiences at St. Mary’s Parish with greater affection than any of the high-profile historical and entertainment venues I visited in the great cities of Europe.
Want to guess where my next overseas holiday is going to be? If I am really lucky, I might be eating at your table and listening to your life stories. Just make sure the door is unlocked.
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