(Part 1)

After a dinner last night, some of the Cleveland travelers took a brief walk up the hill to the Abbey Church where the choir will sing this weekend. I promised to join them later if I could, but I need to go to my room first and submit the blog!

Since I am still getting comfortable with the technical details of the process, it took a little longer than I thought it would. When I emerged onto the street, shadows had descended on the charming town.

I knew, however, that the Abbey was close, and I would probably just stumble across it if I walked up the street. I didn’t, but I certainly enjoyed the lively nightlife, the young people surging around the pubs and restaurants. Soon, I lost track of where I was in relation to the hotel.

It’s an easy fix, I thought, pulling out my roomkey. No address, but it read “Hilton.” I switched on my GPS and saw that it was a 15 minute walk. I thought this was peculiar–I’d only been out 10 minutes. But I followed the route down one unfamiliar street after another until I came to a Hilton–but not our Hilton!

I wasn’t panicked, but I was definitely frustrated. It was dark, I was tired, and I felt foolish. I swallowed my pride and asked three friendly-looking young men for help. I explained that my GPS had led me to the wrong Hilton, one of them, Jamie, laughed and said the Hilton name is on quite a few hotels in Bath and most other cities. So people are often confused.

After I consulted my itinerary and saw it was the “Hampton by Hilton,” Tom and Will, students at Bath, said they knew exactly where it was, and, as they had nothing planned, they would lead me there.

We made mutual introductions and I discovered that all three of them have musical experience, singing or playing instruments, and were impressed that I was there with a choir that would sing at the Abbey over the weekend. Tom asked, “have you seen the Abbey yet?” If not, they would lead me past it on the way back to the hotel.

We went to the front door to check out the service time. Tom said they might be able to come over for Evensong after tea with a friend. As we were walking by the Roman and Georgian-era baths, there was an arresting exchange between us.

“Where are you from?” asked Jamie. “Ohio,” I replied. “Isn’t that where the city is where some of your leaders claimed that people are eating dogs and cats?”This was an awkward question, asked with complete innocence.

I spoke of that truly despicable low point in the recent presidential election campaign and how even the President’s ardent supporters in Springfield had repudiated that damaging lie. But still it persisted. Words once spoken take on a life of their own.

Then Jaime said with sadness, not harshness: “we don’t understand what has happened to the America we used to know. It was a generous friend, a reliable ally, and it always stood up for the truth.”

This was a hard turn in the conversation. But these three young men uncannily reminded me of the three angels who had visited Abraham and Sarah in a moment of crisis (Gen. 18). Jamie, Will, and Tom had been unfailingly hospitable and friendly to this lost tourist that I felt I owed them a response.

I said, in my view, that the nation they were missing still exists all across the US. Those values, vision, and faith still live in small hamlets and big cities across America, and that it is embodied in the Cleveland travelers back at the hotel (which I couldn’t find my way back to on my own)!

The four of us stood at the intersection across from the Hampton Hilton, saying our goodbyes. I told them how deeply grateful I was for their impromptu tour of Bath and for helping me find my way back.

We shook hands, and Will said, “have you gone to a pub yet? If you do, go to the Raven. It’s one of the best.” I thanked them for this last piece of advice, told them I’d look for them at Evensong, and made my way up to my room and my bed, awed by this chance encounter with strangers who I now thought of as friends.

More later, it’s time for breakfast!

Greg+

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