A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To Church

So I find an English-speaking Baptist church. Hip, hip, hooray.

... Well, maybe one 'hip.'

Thank God I travel. Otherwise, I don't know if I would have been prepared for what I walked into at 10:20 a.m. on Sunday. Not that it was bad. In fact, it was kind of good. One thing it was for sure: It was a mini-United Nations. There were people from many nations at International Baptist Church of Vienna on this past crisp Sunday morning.

Service began with a litany of songs I've never heard. Thank goodness they were broadcast on a screen on the back wall where normally the alter would be. Instead of an alter or a podium for the minister, there was a camp ground site. Yes, a camp ground site. Had it not been for a presentation by the church's very cute United Colors of Benetton-looking kids, I would not have understood it. It turns out that the theme of the previous week's first week-long Vacation Bible School somehow tied into camping.

Okay.

The sermon was fascinating as well. It was a slide show presentation on the minister's travels to Iraq, beginning with a brief overview of the country.

Okay.

What I got from the "sermon," though, was that it is the responsibility of Christians to minister to others around the world. To spread the good news. But what I also got out of my attendance at the church was a new friend.

When she first grabbed me to say hello, I immediately detected an American accent and was draw in.

"We've met before," she said.
"Um, we have?"
"Yes. You are the woman with the Bahamian husband."
"Yes, I am," I said. "So, we met? I don't think so?"
"Yes. I sent you an email in reply to a message you sent about about living in Vienna."
"Oh, when I was looking for a hairdresser," I replied, fishing for some sort of clue. "You were away and just got back in town?"
"No."
Okay, this sistah, bettah to help a sistah out, I thought.
Why, oh why, do we have to be so difficult? All over the world!
"Okay, well, I'm Alison."
"I know."

... To make a long story short, we started to talk -- eventually -- as she walked me to the U-bahn (the metro) and then decided she'd join me for lunch. (Now, Nicholai had stayed home to sleep. But the real deal is that he's Catholic and he is convinced that the Baptist stay in church too long. I wonder why he thinks that?)

It was a long "getting acquainted" session, but a wonderful one. She summed it up, "Don't think I'm stalking you. It's just that I don't meet that many "real sistahs," but we need to hang!" I felt the same way. We needed to hang!

I liked her. She reminds me so much of my friend Marquita -- in every way. They look somewhat alike, they are funny as hell, they are too real for words and they can tell a story. Boy, can they tell a story. She had me laughing and laughing. Out loud.

So, we are planning to meet again and this time we will involve our husbands. It will be quite an adventure.

That afternoon when I arrived home, I made it a point to remind Nicholai that church hadn't lasted eight hours (even though I called him periodically during my outing to let him know my status). And as I told him almost word-for-word about our conversation and what we did, his eyes were glued on me. If you know, my husband, that ain't always the case when I'm storytelling!

"And then we went to Akikiko and had sushi," I said.
"Hum," my husband, as usual, replied.
"It was great. Her husband is Nigerian and works in a popular 'fake Mexican bar,' as she calls it," I said.
(Long pause)
"So, is she stalking you?" he asked.
"No."
"Okay. Sounds interesting." And then he took a sip of his Wieselburger beer and turned his attention to the soccer game.

Alison
10:05 p.m.