Osler's Razor

As some of you know, I am a member of the lovely St. Stephens Episcopal church in Edina, which is set next to a creek in the middle of a neighborhood.

Last Sunday, I went to church at another St. Stephens, in London. It is in the Westbourne Park neighborhood, next to Notting Hill, jammed into every square foot of an oddly-shaped urban lot in the middle of a fascinating residential area.

It's quite a church-- and quite different than the St. Stephens in Edina. The congregation is relatively young and diverse and there were kids everywhere-- there was even one scootering around in the sanctuary before and after the service. The liturgy was informal and there was no eucharist. The sermon was wonderful.

The story on the church is that it fell into full abandonment not so long ago-- abandoned to the point that the roof fell in and all that was inside was destroyed. But then the Church of England decided to revive it, and community pitched in to rebuild.  What a great story!

And you know who would love that place? My mom.  Because she appreciates a place like that, and people like that, and a story like that, which altogether is why I feel the same way.