A Day of Worship

Before coming here, I looked for a thermometer that I could hang outside my room and consult each morning on what to wear and perhaps where to go. It took some time to find one that reads to minus forty. Here it is, visible from my window. This afternoon it says plus forty-five under a few frilly clouds. I want to put on sandals and a short-sleeve cotton dress, and go swishing along a dry sidewalk in the sunshine. But I didn’t bring sandals, so boots with short heels have to suffice.

On Sunday mornings during my bicycle travels, I have found churches to be good sources of conversation and information. I am quite tolerant of doctrine, whether I find it in church, bar, or café. I try to pick from the litany morsels of good smell and easy tote, like the squirrels do as they climb about in these spruce trees. Perhaps I am better than most at tolerating preachers who speak of God as if they employ a monopoly on the subject, who cannot bear all kinds of opinions. I find atheists easier to talk to, but today I attended the Evangelical Covenant Church. Here I learned that the people of International Falls are almost entirely Swedes, Norwegians, and Germans. And it confirms what I have observed—no ethnics, no other races, not a single foreign accent. I look and sound like them, and wonder how I might be perceived, and what I might be suspected of, if my speech or color were different. That is something another visitor will have to address. Still, I was not readily accepted into the congregation of this church. I understand their reluctance. Too often, churchmen welcome the smiling visitor only to learn that her rent is due or her car is out of gas. “O Christian, will you send me away,” is surely a repugnant plea.

After church, I walked out of town to the east on Fifteenth Street and returned on Thirteenth Street. If you know how the streets and avenues run in Manhattan, then you know them here—streets run east-west, avenues north-south. I found Sandy’s Place closed, so I returned to the Shorelunch Café. Not knowing the hours, I asked:
“What time do you open?”
“Depends on what day.”
“Weekdays.”
“Depends on who’s here—five, six, seven.”

Still no snow, and the next two days are calling for rain. When you wait for bad weather, for sure only the good comes along. So let’s enjoy Indian summer. Even in Pasadena, the forecast is sunny and warm.

These houses are typical of the staunch workers and God-worshiping people of International Falls. Few shacks, few mansions—just regular houses, regular people.