I’m afraid this post will be a mishmash of my feelings. Feel free to read on or run away in terror. *Austenesque irony* A woman’s musings should be avoided as often as possible.
First, I should give you guys a brief update on the Grill a Christian event. Wow! It was amazing to see so many people (about 50) crammed into our coffeeshop, all asking questions about Christianity. Some audience members were a bit - okay a lot – hostile. Thankfully, our panel members were incredibly gracious and well-educated (Oxford and Cambridge, anyone?). What examples of intelligent faith in action! Formal questions ended within an hour, but many people stayed to informally discuss and debate for another three! Our Bible Study group has been praying and preparing for this event over the last couple of weeks and I totally believe that God delivered in a mighty way.
Following that late night with an early morning, I woke up at half past four to pray with a friend in the 24/7 prayer room. As I pulled my lazy body out of bed, I was reminded of the Muslim call to prayer which includes a line to the effect of “It’s better to pray than sleep!” No kidding. Turns out, time goes quickly when you’re only focused on one important purpose. Quick breakfast then, eventually, I made my way back to New Hall where I took a much-needed power nap.
Onto the superficial bit! If you haven’t guessed already, White Wash Week has been a rather big deal in St Andrews. Last night we brought in a RUGBY PLAYER: Euan Murray, prop for the Northampton Saints, who gave a talk and held a question/answer session in a local pub. I haven’t even met any American sports superstars! Euan (we’re obviously on a first name basis) is known for his commitment to not play rugby on Sundays. Sort of a modern Eric Liddell, who was also Scottish, but far heftier! Seriously, this guy was about the size of a refrigerator. I must confess that I only decided to attend this event after I Googled Euan Murray and found that he’s not too bad looking. There, I said it. Of course, this declaration meant that after the talk my friends playfully encouraged me to get in the queue to meet this 18 stone rock of strength. That’s where it all went from the awe-inspired to the awkward.
Just before it was my turn to meet this man, I realized that all the people in queue behind me were women. It was becoming painfully obvious that the fan-girl syndrome had set in and I was just as guilty as the next person! A local woman actually cut right in front of me to gush over Euan Murray’s rugby career, ask if he was feeling up for the Scotland v. England game next weekend, and touch his bulging biceps. What had I done? I didn’t even know who this guy was until an hour before meeting him! Inevitably, my hovering about couldn’t have lasted forever and it was my turn to talk to Mr. Murray. So, what do I say? I’m sure it came out something like this, “Hi, um, I’m sorry I came in late but thanks so much for sharing your story. I’m new to rugby so, uh, hope you guys beat England next week!” This poor man was just sort of looking at me, and all of us girls, with a sort of bemused expression. He told me thank you and I quickly exited Ma Bells’, happy that I spoke to this sports titian and mortified that I couldn’t think of anything better to say.
Maybe the next time I meet a celebrity I’ll actually be articulate.
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