07 Blog Post 7 September 8, 2024 Isle of Mull

I thought that my blog would have been all about my Sabbath morning—early morning church at St. Mary’s Cathedral in Glasgow, where the female priest was actually American. “I married a Glaswegian,” she told me, “and I lost the coin toss!” The service went straight into my heart. I simply sat and listened as the cantor sang and her voice filled the Cathedral, as the Provost preached wise and good words, as we received communion just as we do at St. John’s on Sunday morning. The same small wafers that melt into nearly nothing nourishes and strengthens our tired souls from one continent to another. The difference in this communion service-- I received this time. I did not administer.

Then on to coffee and a meringue roulade at the Broken Clock Café. Perfect! That’s kind of like I am feeling right now, as if time doesn’t exist in the same way for me. I don’t know how someone made a roulade out of crackly meringue, but it was rolled with layers of cream and fresh berries that popped with flavor in my mouth. Everything feels like a novelty right now—the heart shaped foam on my cappuccino, the aging greyhound who put his graying snout on my thigh to be petted (dogs are allowed in lots of places here), the little girl who twirled into the café with her tulle skirt and close a beautiful pastry to eat with her mum.

“This,” I thought, “this was my nourishment today.” A feast of worship, peace and normalcy for my very first Sunday away!

But I was wrong. It was the Isle of Mull that has stolen my heart and soul from the ferry ride over with wind so strong my ears ached for the next half hour after we docked. The changing light on the ocean that turned from grey-blue to bright green, water that seemed almost luminous when the sun came out.

We docked at Craignure on Mull, drove our car off the boat and turned to make the 30 mile drive to the Bunessan Inn. Within minutes we were on a one lane road that served both directions of traffic. Did you catch that? One lane—both directions. That included buses, trucks and fast-moving campers. While there were adequate passing pull-offs, those buses were pretty heart-stopping.

But then something literally grabbed me. The landscape all around us was wild and barely inhabited, but we were surrounded by breathtaking mountain scenery, ocean views, mist that rose high up and then fell again over us, rainbows fat with color. “My eyes,” I said to Alistair as he drove, “It’s like my eyes are starving and I can’t see enough. I love it here. I want to move here.” Yes, I really said that. Maybe I’m too impressionable as a traveler, but Mull has me in its rugged thrall. I have always liked the idea of surviving, of stripping down to essentials. This is a place that demands both. I could live on soup and wheaten bread, couldn’t I? I think so! And I could write to my heart’s content!

When we got to our hotel, the Bunessan Inn, I immediately headed out for a run so I could be in the place and feel a part of it. Running does that. It connects me intimately with a place. Running along the coast, I felt the bigness of the Atlantic Ocean just outside this bay where we are staying, saw the way the clouds changed from moment to moment and felt as though the cold air was literally cleansing my whole self “Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit,” we say in our Collect for Purity every Sunday.

This place has been my nourishment. From the moment we came onto the island until the island, to the thick spoonful of lentil-leek-carrot soup in the restaurant at the Inn where we ate dinner, until even this second as the wind whips up outside our ocean-side room and the clouds can’t seem to decide whether to unmask the starred sky, or reveal it in all its beauty, I am in love.

Of course--this is a crush and not a relationship. I get that. But I cannot deny the instant connection and attraction, something elemental that makes my blood feel richer in my veins. Is it the ocean? The roughness of the coast? The way the light plays on the water and the land? Yes. I guess it is.

Tomorrow is Iona and the place where I thought I would feel all that I am already feeling. I have waited to visit Iona for most of my life and it is supposed to be the ‘official’ start of my sabbatical. Who knew that God had other ideas? My thoughts return to the morning’s Eucharist, the pastry, the coffee, the travel up Loch Lomond, the ferry ride, the drive along the coast of Mull, and I feel God’s deep satisfaction with Creation. I feel the mightiness of God, the magnificence and power of God, and know that I am simply falling deeper in love with the Creator of all good things.

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