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Bless Our Daily Bread
July 30th, 1889 — Greg Evans home

Greg and his wife had a two room tenement on Pennyworth, and though it wasn't much it was more humane. The landlords left the water on a little bit longer, the grocers extended his family's tick or credit from payday to payday, and doors remained upright and on their hinges without the fear of rough "music" and bright torches from drunken louts.

Kate, his wife, hovered hover an old coal fueled stove taking care of a simple soup of beef scraps from the butcher, potatoes, and vegetables. Meat wasn't usually in their diet but tonight was special as Greg had invited a holy man over, though he be in training. Their daughter Audrey set the table, the cuttlery consisting of spoons and bowls.

Greg looked to the door as he sat at the table, fingers tapping at the wood. Kate spoke, "Your tapping won't make him come any faster Greg."

"Would you have me help you Kate?" He asked a brow quirked.

"Stick to your brew and I'll stick to my stew." He chuckled he knew his way around alcoholic cauldron of bubbly goodness, not the kitchen cauldron she claimed as her domain. His fingers continued to tap to a rhythm all their own. Perhaps this man could ease the burden of faith, and shed the light of the Lord on his home.

@Wendell Banges

It was always a pleasure for Wendell to go and speak with other people about his faith. He knew he was a bit more devoted and others, since it was his goal to have his own little church, but that didn't mean he hated people who didn't spend as much time with it. Denominations were nothing to him, either, though he knew some of them disagreed with the Church of Magical Jesus.

For example, most Muggle churches hated witches and wizards. Wendell's church celebrated them as holy, and he was glad for that. His faith meant a lot to him, even if it didn't mean a lot to his family. Wendell hoped one day he'd marry a good, church girl and they'd have a lovely little magical family.

Pennyworth was where Wendell and his family might have lived, had his father not bought the house on High Street. Now that he was growing older, Wendell knew he ought to be thinking about moving out soon, a thought always on his mind. He wanted to live close to the shop, so he might save his money.

Coming upon the address, Wendell smiled. Someone else's cooking was always an adventure, but if that meant he got to bring a little of the Lord's light into the house, he would be happy. Wendell knocked on the door sharply but politely, and then put his hands in his pockets to wait.
Greg heard the knock on the door and rose to answer. He was pleased tonsee Wendell and gave a. "How do you do, come in, come in." He closed the door behind him.

Wendell would fond a quaint abode, for the working class. A small two burner stove where their meal cooked, a cupboard, a table woth a few chairs, and a curtain in the doorway that no doubt lead to a second room.

His own motjer say at the table knitting while his wife cooked and Audry played with her corn husl dolly. Greg offered the young man a seat at the head of the table. "I hope you didn't find gettimg here too troublesome." His gaze settled to Kate, "How much longer?" A certain eagerness to his voice.

"I'm afraid good vicar my husband has never been blessed with patience. Would you like a mug of ale?" She asked of Wendell. "Though we have all been looking forward to tonight. Our hovel blessed with a man of God."

Greg's had rapped on the table in agreement. "Here! Here! A true man of God!"

The elderly woman cut her eyes at her son pausing in her knitting. "Demons seize the hearts of all men, some simply cannot pass God's test."

"And if of a wolf's in sheep's clothing from the start, what do you say of that mother?" Greg sounded irritated.

Wendell nodded and smiled gratefully as the man, Mr. Evans, invited him in. He gave polite waves and nods of acknowledgement to the women of the home, admiring it slightly. It looked cozy to Wendell, if not the largest space for the family.

The young man took his seat where it was offered, "Oh, it was alright. The time on the walk over was long enough that I had time to think to myself of a variety of different things. I'm certain everyone must enjoy a good walk from time to time."

Wendell was a little uncomfortable with the title of 'vicar,' though he said nothing about it. He didn't feel, by far, officially trained, though Mr. Dursley often made jokes about him taking over the church should Irvingly decide to be rid of Muggles.

"I'll pass on the ale, madam, though by no means will I stop you all from enjoying it." Wendell felt the distinction was necessary, for though he practiced temperance, he was far from the type to stop moderate consumption. "And your home is no hovel, in fact I believe it rather nice."

The leader-hopeful was happy about being called a man of God, as he truly felt called, but fixed his eyes upon the widow Mrs. Evans after her comment and her son's, hoping to mimic the piercing gaze of Mr. Dursley himself. "Now, madam, certainly it is true that all of us are tempted at times. I believe everyone has a chance for forgiveness in the arms of God, though let it be said that us magic-folk have been blessed to have a closer connection with Him."
His wife used a simple Augmenti charm to fill Wendell's tankard with water before setting it beside him and then going back to the cooking at hand. She blushed as he spoke of their home, but then chided herself, "Excuse my lack of humility."

Greg paid it no mind, rather his mind turned to what the young vicar was saying now. "Blessed with a closer connection you say? And what does one think of the dear old good book's, 'thou shalt not suffer a witch to live?' What reason do you have to believe we are his chosen, and not his abomination?"

Greg knew only what had been beaten into him by his muggle father, and though he was intrigued by this magical church, the guilt of his up bringing still stained his mind. His mother listened ever quietly as she knitted, and his daughter hardly seemed to notice Wendell's arrival, too preoccupied with her toy, a small doll stuffed with straw.

"Oh, madam, please. We must be happy in our humble homes." Wendell said cheerfully. Humility wasn't one of his fortitudes. He gratefully accepted the water and kept on the conversation. He did enjoy that the Evanses had a different way of speaking to his own, it helped him with perspective.

That was the sticky point for some, and Wen could understand it. "Well, in my church we believe that the Lord himself was a wizard, when he took human form." The fear of Muggles and discrimination were high, and that was wrong. While Muggles themselves could be worthy of the Lord, they were to be guided by their moral superiors, witches and wizards like himself.

"As for the quote, well, we believe in something of a focus on the New Testament." he said, "Though it is clear that some things in the Old can be repeated and trusted as well."

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