AT THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES this morning, silence and peace-and-quiet are not the order of the day. Rather, many joyful spring hymns are being sung and there is much welcoming back of friends and relatives who traveled south for the winter months. A rambunctious ruby crowned kinglet sings from the pines and balsam firs by the riverbank. Our little
HERE AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES on Palm Sunday, we have no tropical fronds to lay before an honored Teacher. But snow is beginning to fall and it appears the pine boughs will soon be bending low. Nor have we hosannas to shout—although the blue jays are hollering enthusiastically. But we recall the story of a humble donkey bearing
AT THE CHURCH O THE PINES, there is an insistent whispering and shushing in the pine tops, under a gathering overcast. The wind is restless, and the woods seem to be in a waiting, anticipatory mood. The blue jays are restless, too, and in full cry at the slightest disturbance. Other birds and congregation members are more quiet, gathering food