I spent Sunday morning with the congregation of St. Mary's Workington and preached at two services. It was so interesting to me in that the liturgical form was clearly familiar and yet I really had to pay attention. The prayers were just enough different that I could not offer them from memory. I knew most of the hymn texts but did not know any of the hymn tunes. The people were wonderful. One young grandmother had her eleven day old grandson with her. Upon discovering that I just had a new granddaughter days before arriving in England, she allowed me to hold the infant so I would feel better. She was so kind. The sanctuary was constructed with interesting elements of the local reality. The chapel altar rail was designed with a railroad rail from the now defunct local steel mill. The sanctuary light was an old coal mine lantern. The congregation (and vicar especially) are very involved in practical mission in the local community so devastated by the loss of such large local industry.

Late in the day we attended a shoreline ecumenical praise service along the Irish Sea. It was pointed out to me so much of the debris was either from the former steel mill or from intentional barricades constructed during World War Two. Workington has survived much over generations. The congregations here are very involved in multiple coalitions for housing, education, and neighborhood security. I am very impressed with the work of the Scottish, Church of England priest.

In the afternoon I participated in a diocesan gathering at Rose Castle. There were, perhaps, two hundred people in attendance gathered to meet the visiting bishops. Each bishop spoke to the topic: What it means to me to be a member of the Anglican Communion. I spoke about my great affection for the Anglican Communion and how I felt our whole identity was a gift to the world. Bishop Dow also asked me to remark on my experiences in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. The people were engaged and interested. After the time of talks we all gathered on the lawn (it was a beautiful sunny day) and prayed for the upcoming Lambeth Conference.One final tidbit. As we were driving to Rose Castle my host priest pointed out to me some purple colored flowering weed along the road. He noted that they did not exist in England until World War Two. At that time, apparently, weed seed arrived with German bombs. I thought the flowers were quite attractive and an interesting reminder of war.