The View from the 8th Story

It’s windy this morning. The wind roared through the trees outside my window all night, driving rain onto the balcony and knocking our one outdoor plant onto the floor, twice. I’ve been holed up in the apartment for the past couple of days, hiding from the weather, listening to the accordion player next door, and trying to figure out what my role is for the next year. From my window, I can see over the housing estate and beyond, to rolling green hills and several other estates tucked in among the farmland. It’s pretty classic-Irish idyllic, actually. Just staring out the window reminds me how different this place is from home. No waving wheat fields, no mountains, no skyscrapers, no suburban backyards. The landscape and the pulse of a different society. My work this week is mainly caught up in trying to find the pulse of the church and the community. I’ve gone to a pastors’ meeting, a Presbytery meeting, a planning committee, and a fellowship group. (Committees are just as prevalent in Presbyterian churches here as they are in the States.) I spent all morning on Thursday reading up on the Presbyterian Church in Ireland – leaflets about what the church believes and professes, an illustrated history of the church, and so forth. I have more meetings scheduled with other planning committees and fellowship-group leaders. My mind is a wee bit boggled trying to figure out the dynamics of this community’s life. I’m quite hesitant to do anything, though, until I have a sense of what’s already being done and what’s already been tried. I’m even hesitant to say what I’m going to be doing this year until I know better what the needs are. For now, I’m doing a lot of listening, a lot of reading, and a lot of watching. Good thing we’ve got floor-to-ceiling windows in our living room.