HERE AT THE CHURCH O’ THE PINES IT IS COLD. 540 degrees below zero. The trees pop and the river booms. The sun hangs at the same point on the horizon, there for 3 days now, as it is too cold to move. At certain points in the blue dome overhead, we begin to see cracks in the sky, as in fine porcelain or china that has been misused. The birds try to sing, but cough instead—or at least the crows do. And the squirrels try to run across the churchyard on 3 paws as they hold their tails over their noses.
We have the Holy Water in the birdbath plugged in, to give our little congregation a welcome drink, and they seem to greatly appreciate it. The suet logs are very popular, more than ever. We would like to bring hot coffee and bearclaws, longjohns and donuts out to Fellowship Hall, as most midwestern churches do, but such fare seems to run far behind water, suet, peanuts, cracked corn, and sunflower seeds in popularity.
So as always we enjoy the company of our ever-cheerful friends, and wish them well, and do our best to help. May your hearts be warm wherever you are. Good Sabbath!