Sunday, February 18, 2018

Winter collapsed on us that year. It knelt, exhausted, and stayed.

 Emily Fridlund, History of Wolves

A crazy amount if snow falls, and keeps falling, and the wind whips it into white whirls. It’s a February blizzard. All day.

Unless the snow plough comes early, we may not be able to get out to go to church this morning. I must have had that on my mind as I slept because I woke from a dream in which we were scrambling to find ushers but they were all snowed in too.

Hoping, as I write this around 4ish on Sunday morning, that it wasn’t a prophetic dream.

Thanks so much for stopping by. I'm here early most mornings with one of my photos and a few words about life and those thin places where faith intersects.

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