Monday, November 26, 2012

Special order

In my ongoing search for light reading not related to church, I've started collecting the Agatha Christie mysteries.  I've noted that the author very often mentions things related to the C of E (Church of England for those who aren't churchy friends or family -- though I suspect that no one reading this post fits into any such category).  These words were part of the first two novels: vicar, parson, parsonage, acolyte.  (Acolyte!!)

Wanting to read the very first of her mysteries, I stepped into our local independent book store.  I found not a single book by Agatha Christie, so asked for help.  "Oh, we stopped carrying them.  No one reads those except high school students."

Really? (And where are they to shop, then?) I was terribly tempted to say that in fact I was a doctoral student in literature, writing a dissertation on the numerous Anglican references in the Christie mysteries.  (I didn't.)  But I had to special order "The Murder in the Vicarage."

The book arrived, and I went to pick it up after church yesterday.  The woman at the desk looked intently at me, looked at the book, and looked back at me.  What?  Oh...yes.  Perhaps she found it weird that a person wearing a clerical collar bought a book with this title. 

Wednesday, November 07, 2012

O is for the ongoing eggs

This morning, as I walked in early morning light to serve breakfast at the Agape Cafe in Iowa City, a car pulled up along my path and parked.  Two men and a woman got out, joined me on the sidewalk, and asked, "Excuse me, Ma'am?  Do you know anything about that free breakfast they serve around here someplace?"

We were at that moment only two blocks from the Cafe.  I said, "I do know, and I help make the food.  I'll take you there myself."

The energetic young man said, hopping up into the air, "MAN!  I am soooo excited, I heard we could get breakfast and we get eggs and bacon and pancakes, all we want!  So I stayed up late and wrote a song about it, in the style of Kanye West!" 

So I asked if he would sing his song to me, and he did.  Here's how it started:

"T is for tea and toast and bacon
And B is for butter and jam and a big big plate
And O is for the ongoing eggs!"

There was more.  I can't remember all his words, but I remember his leaping into the air, eagerly following me down the street, and the funny way that God worked to bring the two of us together on this happy morning.