Chilli Crisps and Communion Backwash...But Homey Nonetheless

I haven't yet described the church or church family that I've discovered in England, even though I've been to two or three services so far. I consider this as nothing less than negligence on my part, considering that my faith is very important to me and I've always been close to my church family. That being said, it has been comforting to find a home away from home at Christ's Church, which is less than ten minutes' walk away from my Surbiton residence.

I've been attending the night services, which are more geared toward a younger crowd than the family-oriented morning service. The services here really remind me of my church back in Michigan. The people are warm and welcoming, the sermons are actually engaging, and the music is contemporary and familiar. I've recognized a lot of the songs we've sung in the services.

Of course, there are some minor differences, not the least of which being the British accents spoken by everyone. Even when it comes to singing, my voice is obviously American. There's also a tea service before and after the sermon, where we're given time for fellowship and such while drinking tea and snacking on mincemeat pies and "crisps"--potato chips. Although I've learned to be cautious with crisps until after I find out the flavor; biting into a chocolate-and-chilli flavored potato chip was not a pleasant experience. Seriously...that was really the flavor of the vile thing! And that's not even the worse of them! But more about that in a later post.

Communion is slightly different, as well. I had to walk up and get the bread and wine from the pastor, rather than receiving it from my seat. We were all supposed to drink from the same goblet, which I found slightly unhygenic. And that's another thing--the Communion wine was really wine, something that I was unused to, having always received grape juice in my church. And I have to say, I didn't like the change. I've found that I really don't like the taste of red wine. I'd even go so far as to say that it's disgusting. It was all I could do to keep from spitting my mouthful all over the vicar. That sure would've give a new meaning to the song, "Washed in the Blood."

Probably the best part is the time I've gotten to spend getting to know people. It's a better opportunity to meet people than in class, where we're all concerned with schoolwork rather than trying to make friends. On both occasions when I've attended night service, I've been invited out to a pub afterwards and truly welcomed into the group as if I've been friends with them for much longer than two weeks. I did find out today that I've acquired a reputation already as "the American named Jess," but as that's not altogether a bad thing, I don't mind. It's just enough that I've been able to make friends so far away from home and comfort.