Our first Sunday in Ireland began with a bit of labor, and thanks to the wonders of modern pharmacology, I felt refreshed after finally getting a full night’s sleep. I did a little prep work on the front door the previous evening and started varnishing as the sun came up with the cattle lowing in the pasture behind me. After an hour, I had the door looking amber and shiny as a brand new boat deck, and I could officially call myself an Irish painter.
Before leaving North Carolina, we did a little research on evangelical churches in County Cork, and we found one in the town of Mallow, about thirty miles away. We had the farmhouse to ourselves; so we cooked up a big breakfast of eggs, toast with fresh butter, and blueberries and raspberries covered with yogurt—it was party good. Flossie circled the table hoping for a bite but had to settle for her usual fare served in a big metal bowl outside the back door.
Everyone got ready and headed out the door for church just like we do at home—late. No one complained about my driving until we got into town, and for some reason the GPS couldn’t find the street on which the church was located. Mallow is a fairly large town, and we had no idea which way to go. I just started making turns being forced on by tailgating drivers with no love in their hearts. After the fifth or sixth turn, we looked ahead and spotted a large banner sporting a cross and the words "Mallow Bible Fellowship"—unbelievable. I guess the same great God who has protected us on these Irish roads saw fit to guide us into the most appreciated carpark in the world. The Mallow Youth Centre hosts the Bible Fellowship, and services are held in the gym with praise songs and hymns followed by tremendous preaching. The pastoral staff was comprised mostly of American missionaries, and the congregation was a mix of Irish, African, and European believers. The pastor’s sermon focused on the Church, not a building but the true believers in the world from the day of Pentecost until the return of Christ. We were so glad to hear this message, and our resolve to show our children the worldwide Church was strengthened. We enjoyed some great fellowship with the pastors over tea and biscuits after the service, and Joseph was a bit disappointed to learn that the Irish call cookies "biscuits", not the Bojangles variety for which he was hoping.
We had no solid plans for the afternoon; so we ended up at a small McDonalds near the town square and took advantage of some free wifi to catch up on school, blogging, and Facebook. After an easy drive back to Kanturk, we went to our cherished supermarket where we’re becoming the novelty American family and picked up some crusty bread and produce for supper. Mary was back home when we returned to the farmhouse, and we had coffee and tea as she told us stories of cows calving and recent Irish history. She shared sightseeing tips and gave us a lesson on skimming fresh cream from a pot of milk. I enjoyed its rich flavor and texture in my coffee. We headed to bed tired but fulfilled—the Dingle Peninsula is in our sights for tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment