Newbiggin, Barnard Castle, Rainhill

Wednesday was a day of adventures,  stunning scenery, good food and great company. Our first quest was to see the Wesley Chapel at Newbiggin ... teeny tiny little place, which we arrived at via a road that barely accommodated our coach. Had we approached another car, it would have been quite an impass. When we got to the village, we drove right past the Chapel without noticing.... Jesse was accustomed to arriving at it from the front side via a main road, not the back side via barely-a-road. However, our accomplished driver, Phil, backed out the way we'd come and placed us handily at the Chapel doors. The significance of the place is that it's the oldest Chapel in continuous use as a place of worship for Methodists. We had hoped to look inside, but none of the keyholders responded to phone calls and messages left. The primary item remaining from Wesley's days was a pulpit he used, and the rest has been renovated. 

It's lambing season in England, and as we passed through the expansive green fields, we saw many lambs being either snuggled or headbutted by their mothers. Every little child needs a good headbutt every once in a while, I say. (And also, a good snuggle.) Judy and I cooed at each new lamb we saw, but after only a couple of miles it became quite apparent that marveling at each one was futile. Still, Judy would say "aww" and a chorus of fellow travelers would "awwww" back at her (quite sarcastically). Meanwhile, Jessie imagined how the little lambs would one day taste. 

Our plan for a lunch stop had to change due to our back-roads arrival (later than expected) at Newbiggin. Rather than continuing on for lunch at Haworth (home of the Brontës), we stopped closer by at Barnard Castle, which is the name of the town, not just the castle. The place had no particular Wesleyan heritage that Jessie had planned on sharing, but since our circumstances called for the change, he told us a story about how Barnard Castle was the place that John and Charles Wesley came closest to parting ways. John was interested in marrying a woman named Grace, and it was here that he planned to firm up those arrangements. However Charles thought it was not a good idea, and encouraged Grace to marry another man before John arrived. He told her that if she did marry John, she would be responsible for the demise of Methodism. So, she married the other fellow and John arrived to find his hoped-fiance married to another man. He found out about what Charles had done, and commenced the silent treatment. Whitfield (if I remember correctly) eventually helped the brothers to reconcile. And now, 300 years later, I ate a Texas burger in the shadow of the castle where all that happened. 

A local man directed Judy and I to our options for an after-lunch stroll/hike around the castle and back up the steeply-sloped and aptly-named High Street. He offered to walk us there, but then realized I was going to stop and take a picture of silly things like flowers... so took his leave of us. A kindness, nonetheless. Kinder than the owner of the Jack Russell Terrier who didn't seem to welcome my overtures toward his dog. The dog liked them, though, as she got to lick some BBQ sauce off of my hands.

Back in the coach, we headed to Rainhill, near Liverpool. This lovely spot is where Annette and Jesse Sowell spent time when she was serving here as a pastor. We walked from our hotel down to the beautiful St. James Methodist Church Annette once served. A nice bit of walking, but worth it I think.

Dinner was a three course menu, which I filled with fried mushrooms, beef and ale pie (O. M. G.) and apple pie with warm custard.

I ended the evening with a nice chat with Marilyn Patterson about the good work being done by Methodists both in Midlothian and Grapevine/Colleyville. So many ministries in common, and so much to learn from one another.