50 miles to the town of Monmouth.
It was sunset and I had no idea where I’d stay. I was taken in by the local Methodists: I slept in their church library, warm and comfortable, and read books on Christ before I dozed. I shared their coffee cake in the morning, and watched their children collectively deliver a sermon.
Full of joy, I mounted my Giant and took to the wind. Before I went, I invoked:
Lord Lugh, you are my oide,
I recognize you as such.
Give your blessing, O teacher, not to me,
But to those who have done me right:
This generous people.
I come now from their feasting hall
But I remain in your eternal retinue.
As they have cared for me,
So care for them:
Grant them your abiding protection,
And the sheltering presence of heroic hearts.
Is Lugh mo dhé, is Lugh mo ghae. Sé do bheatha a Lugh, Lugh abú. Lugh abú!
I rode a sunwise loop about the church, turned my wheel to the street, and flew.
A bookmark made by the kids fluttered from my handlebars.