Three Sundays ago, I decided to go back to the first church that I tried when I first arrived in Preston. My decision was based purely on the fact that my current place of attendance, although full of friendly people, has a permanent pastor who is only present every other week and for four months straight, every sermon has been based on prayer. The sermons became so repetitive that going to church became an irritant and I disliked going, which is unhealthy for both Lee and I.
I knew that this church's service began at 10:30 and as I approached the entrance at 10:20, I got extremely nervous as two rows of twelve armed servicemen lined the walkway to the stone arch. Hurriedly, I walked to the car park (parking lot) and asked the first person available, "Good morning. Is it alright if I go through the front entrance?"
"Yes, that's fine."
"Well, it's just that there are servicemen lining the entrance." I thought at this moment that I had accidentally arrived for a funeral.
"It's the mayor's outgoing service, isn't it."
"Oh, that's right. Thank you!" I had no clue what he was talking about, but it sounded harmless, so I went in as a usual attendee would and waited in the narthex.
I did go by myself this week because Lee wasn't feeling well. As I waited in the narthex, I looked into the sanctuary and there were about 300 chairs set up for this particular service. Now last time I was there, 30 chairs were awaiting 13 people to attend. At 10:30, I was the only non-employee waiting for church to begin. Still at 10:45, I was the only person waiting to get a seat and upon noticing my looks of worry, a lady who was quite obviously a coordinator of the event asked, "Are you the soloist?"
"No, I'm nobody; I'm just here for church." As we exchanged civil smiles, and I remained confused as to why I was the only person there, I asked, "Are the seats assigned today?"
"You can sit in any of the chairs beginning behind the last row of wooden chairs."
"Thank you."
As I sat down, I noticed a very expensive-to-print programme for the morning's service--which was to begin at 11 o'clock. Around 5 to 11, people finally began flooding in to the church and to my surprise, the ladies and gentlemen were dressed as if they had just returned from the royal wedding. There were hats and fascinators (fancy tiny hats that are all the rage in England for important events) for the women and very rich suits for the men. Luckily, those were the people who had to fill-in the first ten rows. When the elderly lady with bright red lipstick, a bedazzled butterfly hair clip, and bursting blue ensemble arrived who took a seat by me, I felt more at ease.
At 11 o'clock, everyone stood up to welcome what seemed like an endless line of caped and draped important people of the city. The mayor, who was a woman, wore gold chains, a regal hat, and carried a sceptre! The throngs of people who followed her all carried flags and were dressed with jewelled accessories which to me, could have rivalled any scene from a Harry Potter movie. Throughout the service, I didn't feel too out of place because the Father is very skilled at preaching and bringing everyone to the same level.
When I did feel out of place, and probably one of the most awkward moments of my life, was to come after the service. After the mayor and her city councillors led the procession out of the church, each row of people was released one-by-one like in a wedding. I had plans to stop at the grocery store when church was over, but these plans were halted as I walked with the crowd out of the arched doorway, through the tunnel of servicemen, and into the streets for a parade! To break the line and just jet off to the grocery store would have been blatantly obvious and appeared a bit rebellious, so I stayed with the train. The sidewalks were lined with people and I was praying that none of my students were present. I have experience walking in parades with the marching band and girl scouts (guides, in England). But, those were times when I was with a group--not walking by myself using my Elvis handbag to shield as much of my body as possible. To make it look like I was meant to be there, I tried to interact with the couples in front of and behind me, but they were being very British and having nothing to do with someone whom they've never seen. A troupe of bagpipes were leading the way to the Guild Hall where I heard a "reception was being held for Bobby"--I think her real name is Roberta. At this point, I realised just how out of place I was walking with people who called the outgoing mayor by a nickname and following a procession into a reception to celebrate her work. Did I need a ticket? Was there going to be a host checking names off of an RSVP list? Would we have to say something to the mayor? All of these questions combined with the local on-lookers helped me make the decision to jump ship before the walk up the steps to the Guild Hall reception. The only thing I had was my mobile phone to help me out of this situation and so I grabbed it out of my purse and acted like I was getting a phone call. A few steps before the staircase, I flanked to the right and put the phone to my ear and just started making up a conversation. I hid in the shadows of the staircase until the rest of the parade passed me by and the bagpipes stopped blowing.
Lee picked a good day to stay at home, but at least I can add this to my list of life events that have happened in England within just my first year of arriving.
To illustrate, the day looked like this
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
