Horror

I had an ominous feeling all morning. I really was dreading the trip to Holywell but could not put my finger on why exactly. I was not looking forward to a Roman Catholic Medieval Low Mass for the remembrance of a venerated saint whose head was cut off, rolled down a hill and spouted a well, whose head was reattached and she lived to lead a chaste and charitable life of service to the Church. Add that the mass was to be in Latin and it was less than exciting.

We arrived at the church 30 minutes early. Though we were told that there would be "bus-loads" of people coming from this service and for the marching of the relic from the church to the well, the church was relatively empty. The choir was still rehearsing when we arrived: The choir was indeed the highlight of the service! They were fantastic! Yes, it was all in Latin, but it was wonderful. They sang the Introit and the Collect, the response to the Gospel. It was flawless, the acoustics were perfect, and the 8 voices blended and resonated well.

The scripture was from Matthew, the 10 virgins waiting for the bridegroom. It bore no relation to the rest of the service.....

The the priest stood up to speak. I assume he is a bishop or higher because of his regalia and the fact that all the other priests kissed his hand over and over earlier in the service. He removed his triveca hat and blessed himself with it. A deacon placed the manuscript in front of him. I thought he would preach in Latin. That would have been a blessing. Instead, he began a rant against the evils of the split of the east from Rome, the scandal of the Reformation that began the scourge of secularism, the plot is Islam to take over Europe, and the evils of Modernism. The hate that spewed from this man's mouth! I was at the end of a pew against the wall with 20 people between me and the aisle. I was trapped there! Two of my classmates stood up to leave. Our professor stood up to leave -- but all these were in the pew in front of me and on the end! When spew got unbearable and I could take no more, I too stood up and walked on the kneelers to get out of the pew. I walked down the aisle and out of the church.

When I reached the sidewalk in front of the church my blood was boiling. I was so angry! I caught up to my classmates and professor. We got to the end of the street and wondered what to do. We looked back and 5 more of our class were walking out of the church. All of us who left but one are US Americans. The one Brit who left is a Roman Catholic! The US Episcopals and Church of England folks all stayed in the service.

We who left walked down to the well. We spent some time around the well, washing our hands. We made a circle and prayed. Some of us cried. Some of us stomped our feet. Then we waited, wondering what to do.

When the procession came down the hill with the relic and hour later, we stood beyond the gate where the procession would enter the area of the well and sang, "They'll know we are Christians by our love" over and over and over. It was very spontaneous. We had been just standing there. We received glares from the priest and one woman scolded us. But we continued to sing until the procession was through the gate and at the well.

Folks, I've been angry in my life many times. But this was so very different. Never have I heard such hatred spewed from the mouth of one in the regalia and vestature of the Church. There are people who will follow this man's words as truth. He spoke lies! He is misleading people into a gospel of hatred, distrust, fear. I remain appalled. Yet I am helpless to do anything about it.

No Veritas!! Kyrie Eleison.

--
"I am not here attacking Christianity, but only the institutional mantle that cloaks it." ~ Pierre Berton

Pilgrimage

The theme for today was Pilgrimage. We traveled to some ancient sites now covered by more recent builds. These were primarily sites of ancient Irish and Welsh "saints" who established monasteries. I've posted photos on my facebook page for your perusal. (http://tinyurl.com/momsbm) I will post more complete descriptions at another time.

My "pilgrimage" today has been back and forth to the Loo. All day. Something I ate yesterday caused one of my proverbial "flare ups". I spent much of the night "worshiping the porcelain god." Today I've learned where and how to ask for toilets politely in obscure places. This evening I was still unable to eat dinner (having had tea for breakfast, a ginger "bisquit" for lunch (which did not stay in me)). I've taken yet another benedryl and am eating "calcium caplets" (Tums). I will survive. But it has not been a comfortable. day.

I will post this before my battery dies, but look for a longer note either late tonight (for you) or when you get up in the morning.

Peace out...

Day 2 of the Great Excursion

On this side of the pond it's already Thursday. I've been up for about 2 hours because the cook did not realize there is MILK used as a "filler" for sausage. I ate only one bite of the sausage that was wrapped in a chicken breast at dinner last evening, and spent most of the night in the bathroom as a result. I guess I need to quiz him more carefully about food. I thought this was a non issue...but... I'll be eating only crackers and tea today....
Anyway, here's the blurb I wrote last evening before I went to bed....

They say it rains a lot in July in Wales. I think they mean it too. It was raining when I arrived. It was raining when I awoke this morning. It rained through my reading and writing for class this morning. It seemed to have let up a bit at lunch time, so my classmate, Laura, and I decided to walk down to a local tearoom for lunch. The chaplain at St. Deiniols for this month (they rotate much like Chatuakwah [sp?] in New York does), a retired Episcopal priest from Bucks County PA, decided to join us. (Andrew, thanks for buying my lunch today. I still have about L3 left of what you left at the house -- lunch tomorrow, no doubt!) Then Laura and I decided the weather might hold out and we set off on a walk to the castle in the middle of Hawarden (pronounced Harden). It was a lovely walk and the rain did hold off. Unfortunately, it had rained more than 2" in the previous 24 hours and everything was coated with MUD... And, I didn't remember to bring my camera!!

But, the remains of this castle are really just the outer walls and a watch tower for the real castle which is about 2 miles down the road. Where we walked was through a pompous gate (very similar to the cemetery gate in Hinsdale but with HUGE wooden doors) and into a rather large hilly field. The field was full of sheep. And the sheep left lots of "fertilizer" along the path we were walking!! Laura is NY City born and raised and this was quite upsetting to her! But she soon forgot what she was stepping in and over when she saw all those adorable little lambs. And they were indeed cute.
We walked over a hill and down into a valley along an old road that at one time was paved in stones and bricks. It's now quite washed out and muddy. When we got to the watch tower and climbed up the hill to get to it, we discovered it was behind a locked gate and a second wall with signs every where warning "No Trespassing. Motion Detection Cameras in Use." So we respected the signs and walked back down the hill to the path we were walking.
The path is a designated walking path for those who hold "permits." We had such a permit that the Library had given to us. So we were indeed legal. We followed it down the hill and through a wooded area. At the bottom of the hill, in the middle of the woods there was an old stone bridge over what was once the "valleam" or mote around the property. We actually crossed this mote 3 times before we were done, each time on ancient stone bridges. The walk turned out to be just under 3 miles (by my pedometer, anyway). It ran through the north end of the walled property and then back to town along the outside of the wall on a path above the mote. The original estate was a fiefdom dating back more than 1000 years. It was most recently owned by the Gladstone family. W.E. Gladstone was a 4 time Prime Minister of the UK. He was instrumental in the politics of the Baltics prior to WW1 in saving one of the peoples there from extermination (don't ask me which tribe of Eastern Europeans at this late hour of the day!!).
It was W.E. Gladstone that founded this library called St. Deiniol's where I am both staying and studying. In our orientation this afternoon, we were given the history of this place before our first set of lectures. It seems the Sir Gladstone had always felt called to ministry in the Anglican Church but was pressured by family to follow his male ancestors into politics. He was also very fond of reading and by the time he was in his 40's and PM of the UK he had acquired and read over 30,000 books -- primarily on theology, church, and world history. When a friend of his died, he over heard the family discussing what to do with that man's "extensive library" of a couple hundred books. That family chose to donate them to Oxford. Gladstone decided Oxford had enough books without his, London had enough books without his, and poor little Hawarden had no public library. So he and his daughter moved his 30K books to a large "tin barn" on property in the center of the village. He set up the library for anyone with a hunger to learn to do so affordably. In his will, he willed that instead of the state setting up a memorial to him, they build a permanent building for his public library (which by then had grown to over 100K books). His family then matched the funds and built a residence attached to the new library that would serve for residential guests who used the library from other areas. So, the library, still catalogued according to Gladstone's numbering system (which is logical but not universal by any stretch) now sits in the original building plus an annex with 4X as many books on sliding cases (which Gladstone supposedly invented and sold the patent to).
The library itself is beautiful. It was built in the late 1800's (Gladstone would have been 200 years old this year). The exterior is brown stone, three stories high. The interior is all intricately carved wood pillars and roof rafters, with the second floor open to the first through a large balcony over the first floor and all the way around it. The bookshelves are also intricately carved and stand back to back with a third bookcase on the ends. The area is really well lit with natural light through the windows.

The 30 residence rooms are tiny -- much like monks cells -- with just enough room for a bed, sink, and desk. The women are on the third floor under the rafters -- yes, we have to "mind" our heads as we walk down the corridors because the buttress beams are low. I suspect that at one time these were servants' quarters! But... it's a bed and desk.
The lecturer this afternoon and evening was Ian Bradley, who wrote one of the texts we've read for the course. The first lecture on "What is Celtic Christianity" was interesting; the second was a repeat of much of what is in his book...

There are 17 people in this course. Probably 10 of us are from the States. Several are Anglican Vicars, a few are British Presbyterians. Of the US folks, 3 of us are UCC, 3 are United Methodists, 3 are Episcopal Priests, and one is Roman Catholic (Laura). Of the whole group, 9 are women.

Tomorrow we will be out of the library and on "excursion" to ancient sites. We'll go to Gwynedd to visit Clynnog Fawr, Caenarfon, Penmon, and Beaumaris. Yes, I'll remember to bring my camera! Then after walking around ancient sites of monasteries and churches all day, we have an 8 p.m. lecture by Ian Bradley.... this after a full dinner at 6:45... can you see me sleeping through this????


That's the news from this side of the pond......

Travel across the Pond

I made the trip across the pond. Well, it was uneventful, yet not so. Let's just say I arrived in one piece and with my luggage and passport. But...

The flight from Evansville to Memphis was without problems or highlights (no pun intended). As I walked through the Memphis airport things looked vaguely familiar from other flights through there. There's some cool "jazz" artwork on the walls as you walk from the "smaller" gates (turboprops) to the larger gates. I came into the last gate on the "smaller" area -- we had to walk from the plane to the terminal by walking in front of other parked planes. No big deal.

I found the gate assignment for the flight to Amsterdam. It was, of course, at the farthest end of the most distant terminal. But I found my way there just as they were calling up the first passengers (45 minutes prior to departure). I have an Elite Membership (NW Air's frequent flier program) and so was allowed to board with the first and business class folks even though my seat was neither. I was the sole female in a section of 20+ men who all knew one another and were on their way back to work in Saudia Arabia in the oil fields... a herd of Texas long horns who've been home with their women for a month and returning to work for the next month. I put on my headphones and turned up my mp3 player and took a benedryl. Somewhere over New York State I fell asleep and woke up to the sound of the dissonance of the gaggle of long horns snoring. But the sky outside the plane was bright with sunshine and they were serving breakfast, so I must have slept at least 6 hours. We did a 20 minute holding pattern over the North Sea while waiting for a thunderstorm to pass the Amsterdam airport, then landed in the smoothest landing I've ever been in. I never felt the wheels hit the runway. Very impressive.

I had no trouble getting through the Amsterdam airport. The "Cityhopper" flight from there to Manchester was out of a gate and onto a bus that took us across the airport to a smaller set of runways on a smaller plane. Not as small as the plane from E-ville to Memphis, though! When I arrived in Manchester, things deteriorated.

There was a thunder storm between Amsterdam and Manchester, so we had to circumvent it. This put us into Manchester about 15 minutes late. Then, once on the ground, there was construction on the runways, so taxiing to the gate was another 20 minutes. Customs was no problem. When I got into the main arrival area, I cashed out my US$$ for L... But, I could not find the "car" that was to pick me up. I looked at my e-mail and found the phone number. I was to call them and they would tell me where they were waiting. I found a "red box" and put in 40 pence (thanks, Andrew!) and dialed the number. The number was not recognized. The phone number was missing a digit. So I called St. Deiniol's Library. I got a recording saying the office was closed. So I went back to my computer and e-mailed the person who sent the information about the "car" reservation. But, I could not get an internet connection.

After 2 hours of wandering through the "car park" (parking garage) looking for a "car" service from Hawarden, I went back into the terminal. A scruffy looking guy walked up to me and asked if I was Mrs. Stucklen. I laughed! Who on earth with a cockney accent would be looking for my mother?!!! Of course it was the driver who didn't get my name correct. But we laughed and he walked me to the "car" -- a small bus, really. And I was the only passenger. From the parking fee, I knew he'd been waiting less than an hour.

He got me to the "library" and I turned to pay him. He didn't take a credit card. Cash only. So.... I looked into that magic wallet and found only L20. The fee was L40. So I walked into the village to Lloyds of London and pulled out that trusty ATM card the Credit Union ASSURED me would work in the UK. But there's no ATM machine, or "hole in the wall" as they call it. So I gave my card and passport to the teller and asked if perhaps she could make it work. She did. I have no idea what the exchange rate is,but I think that the 40 minute trip from the airport cost me over $120. There's got to be a less expensive way to get back there!!!

I walked back to the "library" and the driver had left. I left the cash with the receptionist and she assured me he'd be back with other students in the morning and she'd pay him then. Okay.... taken care of. But I was wet and tired.

I crashed for a couple of hours before dinner (6:45). Eating dinner was a bit like eating in Mother's house -- lots of food, many people, and it's all served from the kitchen. The food was, well, British. No seasoning. Just boiled carrots, boiled potatoes, boiled pork(?), and boiled broccoli. I didn't venture to dessert since it looked like a milky pudding.

I will write more about "the library" tomorrow.... for now I'll leave that to your imaginations.

My friend Laura (a classmate from Drew University) and I talked until it was nearly dark (10p.m.). It's chilly. I've put on long sleeves under my sweater, and I've got on full length knee socks and shoes. They all say it was a lovely warm day.... I guess the midwest "heat and humidity" is still inside my bones because I'm anything but warm. They also say it does not get completely dark here. I'm looking out the window into the clouds and still see light behind them.... But morning comes early. So it's time to retire.

There's no internet access in my room (which is a little smaller than Harry Potter's under the stairs room). I have to walk my laptop down two flights of stairs to sit under the wireless router. I'll do that in the morning.

--
"I am not here attacking Christianity, but only the institutional mantle that cloaks it." ~ Pierre Berton

Addictions

Remember that TV ad for Lays Potato Chips?

"Betcha can't eat just one!"

And the challenge is set.

The only thing is, there's no winning it. Lays knew that when they put the ad out. No one can eat just one because fat, salt, and sugar (carbs) are so very addictive.

This all came together for me as I was walking through the grocery store this afternoon. Well, it began before that. As I was parking (in that space that is as far from the store door as I can possibly get), the radio was playing an ad for McD.'s You've heard it, I'd bet.

"This is economics 101. Value is defined as .... as proof, there are McDonald's Value Meals on your desks..... 'I LOVE economics.'.... Mouth watering french fries.... add a cool, creamy hot fudge sundae for just $1.00"


You get the idea. So those are playing in the shadow narratives of my mind. I walk into the store to be greeted by a large display of potato chips and, my weakness, Fritos. "God, save me from myself. I've lost 15 lbs and I will NOT succumb to the fatty salt gimmick... if only You'll help me!"

I walked by. I got to the produce and found a lovely seedless watermelon. Much better. Then a display of lovely local peaches; I picked out ten and placed them into a sack. So far so good.

I pushed the cart past the deli case of rotisserie chicken (I've eaten a whole one by myself in the past), and am confronted with another display of Fritos.

"Come on!! This is too much!"

I pushed on past them to the dairy case. Half a gallon of low fat soy milk goes into the cart. Pushing on past the sour cream and chip dip (yummy -- sour cream on those Fritos!!) and into the coffee/tea aisle. Two boxes of cold brew ice tea bags, a box of flavored Splenda packets. I'm getting closer to the end.

At the end of the aisle there it is again: Potato chips and Fritos display. The same one I saw as I walked in but this time from the back side. Hmm... so very tempting. I think of the scale in my bathroom and push on ahead.

"Wow, this holiday weekend stuff is going too far. I should have eaten some lunch today... my stomach is growling."

Down the soft drink aisle to its end where the plastic wrap and GladWare bowls are stocked. A pack of two large bowls (for the watermelon) go into my cart. Almost home. I round the corner and pick out a quart of yolkless eggs from the cooler and turn left. Here it is: the home stretch. If I can make it down this aisle, I'll be in the free and clear.

I push the cart down the aisle of freezer doors behind which sits fat, sugar, and salt. Some may call it prepared food and ice cream. But since most of it contains either milk or too much fat and salt for me to safely eat, I prefer to tell my brain it's pure fat, sugar and salt. The milk will land me for days in the bathroom. The fat will coat my veins and arteries and shut them down. The salt will push the water content of my blood into the hypertension range. Heart attack #2 stacked nicely behind the glass doors of the freezers.... must walk by... must walk by.

The folks in the aisle look at me strangely -- as they rightly should. I'm talking to myself at this point.

"Fat, salt, sugar. Fat, salt, sugar. Fat, salt, sugar." I'm almost to the end. Almost there.

Then someone calls my name. I turn around. Strolling down the aisle behind me is a 5.0 ounce, 800 calorie bag of Fritos holding in its hands a hot, juicy rotisserie chicken and a Snickers bar. Really! I'm a pastor; I don't lie!! This bag is walking toward me calling my name, offering to give me the Snickers and the chicken if I can eat just one Frito.

"Eat just one and walk away and the Snickers and chicken are yours. And you will know as much as God knows." (oops, wrong story.)

"Must resist. Must resist. Must resist."

The guy with the cart full of beer and potato chips giggles at me. "Crazy lady talking to herself." I KNOW that's what he's thinking. Doesn't he SEE that bag walking down the aisle? What's wrong with him?

I'd better turn and run. So I push the cart faster down the aisle. "Fat, salt, sugar. Fat, salt, sug..."

It's no use. The big bag caught up to me and jumped into my cart. I told it to get out! I don't want it. And wouldn't you know it. It starts to cry. It feels rejected. Big pouty lips....

.....

I made home in one piece. I ate a leg and thigh of the rotisserie chicken for supper. I can honestly say I put the Snickers on the rack at the checkouts, and that not one Frito passed my lips. Not one.

I think I'd better go walk ten miles now.