Palm Sunday, Anyparish UK

We'd wanted to go to His parish to hear our banns of marriage being read. I'd rung the vicar, not so much to request or announce this but to ask where the church was, as it didn't appear to be listed anywhere online and I couldn't find the phone book.

The vicar had said to me "it's delightful that you should want to do that, but I'm not sure that we can give you the best impression of what Church should be." I tried to reassure him that I've been to a fair diversity of churches in my life and that I am open to all interpretations of what Church could be.

"Your'd be most exceptionally welcome. But we're an old congregation," he said. "Nobody, literally, nobody under 75 - not even me. It's a challenging parish, so complex, some pockets of such baffling deprivation... and then that school, too. And the last vicar left - goodness, no I shouldn't say that. But do, Grace, please, tell do me about yourself.."

We went to the early morning service today. I saw glances of apprehension and consternation towards us, an inability to fathom why we'd ever have wanted to come. But then, a thawing, and by the time we left not one of the 30 congregants had failed to welcome us, to congratulate us and to ask "but why did you want to come?"

Because you welcomed us.