Churching

Awaking once more in Hamilton, I had naturally intended to go to Gateway Church again this morning, but somewhat pushed for time, in the end I climbed up a winding path off of Victoria Street to drop into St. Peter's Anglican Cathedral instead.

I was there for just ten minutes, but I don't think I'll ever forget them.

As I slouched in with my huge rucksack hanging off my back, initially I was alone. The service hadn't started yet, and it didn't look like it was going to until after I had left.

Next I met the priest - a grinning fellow - who invited me to join a small gathering in the little foyer there. I duly deposited my rucksack, and gratefully took-in a lovely cup of tea.

They began their gathering. The priest welcomed their guest for the morning (me), and promptly began to interview me in front of the group. Suddenly we were forming an impromptu double-act, as I told him where in London I was from, and he revealed that he had a relative from a nearby town there. We were joking and bouncing off of each other, and then it was time for me to go.

Everyone wished me well, and as I heaved my belongings onto my back again and returned down the winding path out into the great big world again, I reflected how these people – much older than myself – had just done church really well.

In a faraway town, I'd met a group of complete strangers who had all become my friends for ten minutes.

You can't do it better than that.