A View from the Rug: Dad's Grand European Adventure!

 

A View from the Rug: Dad’s Grand Adventure

By Paddy Allen, Dog Pastor at Trinity Evangelical

 

Let me tell you, twenty-one months old is far too young to be left in charge of the homestead for over two weeks, but somebody had to keep an eye on the perimeter. Dad and the kids crossed the big pond to England and France, chasing after old history, some fellows named C. S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and walking the sacred ground where history turned.

 

Since Mom (Grandma Carol) didn’t go along on this trip, that meant I had a double shift back home. I had to look after Grandma all by myself, and let me tell you, it was exhaustive work. In fact, looking at me now, you might notice I packed on quite a bit of beef while they were gone! Dad says I’ve gone and gained a lot of weight. I blame Grandma—she absolutely spoiled me with the good stuff—and my walking friend Chris definitely helped fill out my frame with plenty of extra treats. I guess you could say I was doing some heavy-duty comfort eating while missing my Dad.

 

When Dad finally walked back through the door, I gave him the full-body wag treatment, extra weight and all. He looked happy, a little worn out, and mighty glad to stick his boots back on Indiana soil. Once he got settled in his chair, he started telling me all about it, and it sounds to me like those old countries could learn a thing or two from a Wisconsin farm boy.

 

First off, Dad says finding a place to park a vehicle over there requires a minor miracle. The streets are so narrow you’d think they were built for a couple of slim sheep walking single-file instead of modern machinery. But as Dad pointed out to me, they don’t have much of an option over there. To widen those streets to fit a good old American truck, you’d have to tear down a whole lot of irreplaceable history! So, the narrow lanes stay, packed tight with centuries of stories. Still, back here, we have room to breathe, stretch, and park without needing a shoehorn.

 

And don’t get him started on the public facilities. Dad says a proper toilet is a rare commodity over there, especially in France. Apparently, to save on labor and cleaning, a lot of the spots they stopped at featured what he calls “squatty potties”—just a porcelain arrangement on the floor without a seat or a cover! I might be a dog who is perfectly content using the side of a fence post, but Dad prefers a bit more dignity and comfort when he’s taking care of business.

 

Then there’s the food. You’d think with all that fancy history, they’d know how to handle a basic breakfast. Dad said they don’t have a clue how to cook a proper egg over there—especially in France. They either serve them underdone or just plain wrong. A man needs a solid, properly turned egg to get his engine running in the morning, and nobody does that better than home. Though, Dad did notice one thing while walking those narrow streets: the folks in England and France are a whole lot thinner. When he stepped off the plane in Charlotte, North Carolina, it was a bit of a shock to be reminded of how fat Americans have become. The contrast was amazing! (I looked at Dad’s stomach, but thought it best not to say anything!) In any event, Dad’s hoping Secretary Kennedy can help get our food supply healthy and get us all eating right again! (And maybe he can look into a diet plan for a certain Golden Doodle, too...)

 

But if you ask Dad what he loved best about the whole journey, it wasn’t the fancy monuments or the tourist traps. It was the people. True to form, everywhere they went, Dad would vanish. The kids had to keep looking after him because he’d disappear into a crowd only to be found minutes later, deep in conversation with a local shopkeeper, a laborer, an old soldier or museum guide. As an old corporate manager and a pastor, Dad has always cared about the rank-and-file, hard-working folks. He loved pulling up a chair, listening to their everyday stories, and finding out what makes them tick.

 

In Epworth (the home of John Wesley), he met a fellow named Gavin who was taking a breather from mowing and weed-eating an overgrown cemetery. Gavin grew up in construction with his dad, who actually built the local nursing home in Epworth and many of the neighborhood parsonages. Gavin told Dad how over-regulated everything is in Britain, making it next to impossible or completely cost-prohibitive to get anything done. Dad thanked him for taking such extra care with the veterans’ graves, and Gavin admitted he wanted to do more—but fixing a headstone, resetting a foundation, or even cleaning the stone is all strictly tied up in public regulations. Dad started discussing farming with Gavin when the kids dragged Dad away!

 

While searching for his family roots, Dad also met up with a local lady named Beryl at St. James’s, the ancient ancestral Church of the Allen family tucked away in Taxal. The area around Taxal looks just like the British movies. Paddocks of stone fences with sheep grazing on green hills. Now, Dad learned that some human behaviors never change, no matter how many centuries pass! Apparently, many years ago, the parish split after a couple of church leaders got into an actual fist-fight. Because of that old brawl, a new Church broke off from St. James and formed Holy Trinity in the nearby town of Whaley Bridge, just a mile or two down the road in Derbyshire. But here’s the kicker: history has a funny way of bringing things full circle. Today, because of a major shortage of ministers over there, those two very same Churches are legally forced to share the exact same Priest and worship together on alternating weeks. I guess a good old-fashioned squabble can split a flock, but time and necessity will always herd them back into the same pen!

 

Up in London, Dad met Amanda at the Tower of London. She’s a Beefeater, which means she’s part of the elite security team for the Crown Jewels and also acts as a tour guide. She had quite a history herself, having served 27 years in the military and lived all over the world. Also at the Tower, Dad ran into another old veteran. You know how old veterans are—they love nothing more than standing around, swapping stories and speaking the same language. This fellow sat and explained to Dad exactly why the British Army has a completely different hand salute from their Navy and Air Force counterparts.

 

Then, over at Westminster Abbey, Dad struck up a conversation with one of the Stewards named Daryl. Dad told Daryl he was shocked by how little attention King George VI (Queen Elizabeth II’s dad) receives at the historic sites. Dad considers George VI to be the greatest modern King in England’s history. After all, navigating the abdication crisis of his brother, Edward, and guiding a nation through World War II is no small thing! You’d think he’d get a grand remembrance. But Dad remarked to me that it’s a lot like Winston Churchill—the man changed the world, yet was voted out of office right after the war. Sometimes those who carry us through the absolute toughest, muddiest times in life are later associated with the pain of the crisis, leaving behind a hidden displeasure instead of the honor they earned.

 

They also chatted with a delightful grandmother working as a waitress in Epworth who was an absolute joy to be around. She told them all about the beautiful beaches at Brighton and insisted that when they return, they have to take a vacation there.

 

One Sunday night, Dad and Kathy headed into downtown London to visit an old parish called St Aldates Church. Now, Dad told me this was definitely not your great-grandma’s High-Church worship. As they walked through the doors of this centuries-old cathedral, one of the priests, Father Simon came right over to sit and chat with them. He was about ten years younger than Dad, but he was clad in a leather motorcycle jacket! Kathy had actually been following his podcasts all the way back home in Indiana, so it was an incredible moment. What an inviting Church!

 

Inside that historic, stone sanctuary, they had a live band playing, and the whole place absolutely “rocked” with worship. It was amazing for Dad to witness how this old-fashioned, ancient building had completely transformed its approach to reach out to the disenfranchised. They were told that the first two rows of seats were explicitly reserved for addicts, sex workers, and anyone else who just needed to come in off the streets and find Jesus. Those front rows were absolutely packed out, and so was the rest of the building. It was a powerful reminder for Dad that no matter where you are or what your background looks like, everyone needs Jesus! They ended the service with handing out pre-packaged bowls of ice-cream… so this gave Dad an idea for a future service at Trinity in Mount Vernon.

 

Dad told me that no matter where they traveled—whether it was talking to Muslim Uber drivers in France or the waitstaff at various restaurants—underneath the accents, differences in religion, and the geography, everyday folks are exactly the same. Everyone is losing sleep over the same core things: their families, their health, their faith, and their deep frustration with “corrupt” governments.

 

And Dad noticed one bigger thing that binds the whole world together. Throughout all of England and France, every single person he met who looked just like him—gray hair, wrinkles, and a lifetime of experience—was deeply worried about the younger generation. It didn’t matter if they were in a busy French café or a quiet English village; the older folks were all losing sleep over the exact same things old people worry about for the next generation. They were worried about how their kids are going to find good jobs, how they’ll ever afford to buy a home, and what kind of world is being left behind for them. Dad realized that a grandparent’s heart breaks and hopes for the future, in the exact same language, no matter what side of the ocean they call home.

 

He found plenty of that deep history too. They went on a grand tour of Oxford, walking the very paths where C. S. Lewis and Tolkien used to stroll and talk about their deep ideas. Dad also attended a C. S. Lewis conference and learned a whole lot about how God works in a person’s life long before they even realize it. He told me it was fascinating to see how the Lord took a snobbish, bookish, 18-year-old atheist who was an elitist, and completely transformed him.

 

When Lewis first entered the military, he looked down his nose at the regular soldiers around him, privately writing them off as uncultured “philistines.” But the mud, blood, and shared terrors of the trenches in World War I broke down that intellectual pride. God used those awful circumstances to develop a close, life-changing relationship between Lewis and his sergeant, Harry Ayres, a working-class man twelve years his senior. Serving side-by-side, Lewis’s elitism melted away as he witnessed the deep courage, dignity, and value of ordinary men.

 

It really struck home for Dad when he heard about the Battle of Arras, where Lewis’s commander, Captain Henry Caleb “John” Booth, and Sergeant Ayres were both killed by the same shell bursts of friendly fire that wounded Lewis. Lewis was spared, pulled from the rubble for at the time an unknown future purpose. That humbling transformation in the trenches planted the seeds for the great theologian Lewis would become—the man who would one day beautifully write that “God makes no ordinary people” and that there are no ordinary individuals because every single soul matters.

 

Being a Wesleyan preacher, Dad also made sure they stopped at Samuel Wesley’s Church in Epworth, England. He told me that most of the Churches over there are incredibly old, but sadly, many are in quite a state of deterioration. Strangely enough, even the famous cemeteries holding some very famous people were completely overgrown with weeds and tall grass. It broke his heart a bit to see such rich heritage neglected—back on the farm, we’d never let a pasture or a resting place get that ragged!

 

But the most solemn part of the trip happened in France. Dad told me about standing at the corner of the American cemetery with his daughter Sarai. He said it takes your breath away to look out and see nearly 10,000 graves stretching across the green grass. Knowing that 4,000 heroes were lost on the very first day of the invasion, and another 5,800 or more over the days that followed, Dad just stood there as an Air Force veteran, looking at the rows of white markers. He couldn’t help but ask himself, “I hope that all of these lives that were lost, were worth the sacrifice.”

 

It’s the kind of heavy sacrifice that reminds us of the ultimate cost of freedom. Sitting there listening to him recount the challenges of European traffic (thankfully his son Jon was the driver), French plumbing, the overgrown churchyards, and the solemn weight of Normandy, I noticed he wasn’t angry or bitter about any of it. He just smiled, scratched my ears, and reminded me of that good word from the Apostle Paul in Philippians 4:11: “For I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content in it.”

 

Travel has a way of testing a man’s patience, whether you’re serving as a Chapel Manager in the Air Force, navigating a foreign subway, or remembering the fallen. But Dad knows that contentment isn’t about having a perfect parking spot or a flawless breakfast; it’s a matter of the heart and being grateful for the life we’re given to live—and the unseen purposes God has for each of us.

 

Still, as the old saying goes, the best part of any journey is the road that leads back home. It’s good to have him back in his chair, where the fields are wide, the plumbing is predictable, the eggs are cooked just right, and a slightly plumper, twenty-one-month-old Golden Doodle can curl up right at his feet. Welcome home, Dad! Next week Dad will be writing the articles!

 

Pastor Jim Allen is the shepherd of Trinity Evangelical Church in Mount Vernon. Pastor Jim invites you to come and join us each Sunday morning worship at 10:10AM. Throughout the summer we also offer Church on the River each Sunday at 8am, through end of September at River Bend Park. Bring your dogs, pets, and even your in-laws! And don’t forget to CIRCLE THE DATE of Sunday, September 13 (time to be determined) for the Dedication Recital with Jeremy Boyer the organist of the St. Louis Cardinals and baritone guest soloist Charles Blesch.