Circuit Work

Little Chloë reaches her small feet beneath the brown, homey table at the pub and places them on Ryan’s. She’s spent the morning moving from one old lady’s lap to another and, we’re told, was very excited when her grandma told her that two American boys were coming around; she did not anticipate that “boys” in grandma vernacular can refer to people twenty years older and three feet taller than her. Nonetheless, eventually she puts away her shy fingers with which she hides her face and begins to chase us around the church.

Someone has noticed the feet. A stylish bluehair at the end of the table in a red jacket smiles in a big way that highlights her mischief lines. “That little flirt!” she says. “She’s too young to be so cheeky!” Later, Ryan confides that he felt uncomfortable, with the little girl playing footsy and the elderly folks looking on, not realizing that all we old folks (myself included) think it’s hilarious.

Such is life on the circuit, its four welcoming churches bringing us in as prized guests, almost to the level of C-3P0 among the Ewoks, and we are humbled. Our schedule is thus, plus every meal shared with a family, every transport in a friendly sedan or by foot:

Saturday: Coffee Morning – at Bourne. Hang out and provide coffee/tea, biscuits, and teacakes for 50p each to the folks attending the Saturday market in this old market town. The church, built in 1812, used to have a big cattle exchange in what is now the car park. We sit with many people, but a steadfast presence is Chris, a jolly, Santa Claus of a man, albeit without the beard. He wolfs down teacakes and tells of the Tudors, Bourne’s ironic history in Formula One racing, Operation Market Garden, etc. We heart him.

Sunday: Service – always changing. Currently, I’m preparing a Bible study on the Prayer of Solomon in 1 Kings 3, practicing our readings and prayers we’ve been asked to give, and I’ll be playing with Alan in the worship band, without a microphone (since I don’t know most of the older, Petra-era songs), focusing on playing guitar and looking confident, maybe dancing a bit. Ryan is writing a children’s moment on Zacchaeus from Luke 19, because God can use us even when we are short. Our short days are over for now, though, at least until we finally get the chance to play in the NBA.

Monday: Cheeky Chimps – toddlers at Bourne. Craziness.

Tuesday: Youth Club – pandemonium of awesome moms who run it and 10-14 year olds who all have cooler phones than we do. The schedule usually goes: run, run, eat sweets at Tuck Shop, and run some more. For the less active ones, substitute sit on a couch watching “Futurama” or playing with multimedia phones that probably cost more than all my gear in my rucksack. We’re creating some sort of video project for them, but regardless of what we do, we’re only here for two months, and nothing we start can be sustainable. So we’re meeting with Colin next week, and will mention the need for a youth pastor.

Wednesday: Prayer Breakfast – at Thurlby. We pray and eat breakfast, usually porridge.

Thursday: Lunch Club – for older folks, at three of the four churches. Depending upon where we are, and how anal the chefs are, we prepare, serve, and share over a cheap lunch. It’s a three course meal wherever we go, but only Thurlby makes its own, homemade pudding. Derek, the seventy year-old cook from the RAF, is swell… and mischievous, so we work together well.

Friday: Off!