Ken Edwards, Senior Pastor

We had heard the forecast of several inches of snow, but we’ve been alarmed by these dire predictions in the past, only to awaken to an updated version that snow had evaporated before it hit the ground or that the snow had moved just to our north. My family likes snow. My wife’s father grew up in Presque Isle, Maine, where snow is measured in feet, not inches. My son looked forward to playing football with his neighborhood friends in the snow-covered yard down the street. They like playing football in adverse conditions.
    
I’m usually the pragmatic one in the family. If I hear a snow warning, I begin to look for things like microwave popcorn and coffee. I could survive for days on these staples of my diet. I’m the one who worries about getting out of our neighborhood with its steep hills. I locate the snow shovel and try to make plans for the days ahead. I fill the bird feeders with fresh sunflower seeds and put out a new package of suet. I try to decide about church closures and cancellations of our plans.
    
We were officially snowed in on Friday and Saturday, schools were closed, roads became impassable or improbable. After shoveling snow and taking care of snow-related chores, I found a book to read and headed to my study. Later, I sat at the kitchen window and watched the flocks of birds as they discovered the bird feeder. I watched the snow cover the earth, outlining tree limbs with its beauty. Children and adults played together on sleds going down the hill in front of our house. The busyness of our world stopped for a few days and I was grateful that the snow had given us time for much-needed sacred pause.