In one of my recent entries I wrote about changes. Today I experienced an incredible change (in weather) on my walk. I only walked about a mile and a half, because the 18 degree temperature felt more like 8 degrees with the biting wind off the lake. And I had foolishly forgotten to put on a hat.
But the sky was beautiful. Sun slanting through the dark-but-fluffy clouds, lighting up the lake. Across the lake was a very ominous wall of darkness rolling over the water. Just as I turned away from the lake, on the homeward stretch, a blizzard struck me in the back. What a snow! The flakes were like pellets, and as I trudged the last half mile, these pellets were hitting my face, stinging like bees. There were moments when I couldn't see at all.
It was exhilarating! The closer to home I got, however, the icier the sidewalk became, until I had to slow way down and pick my way very carefully. Of course, I had no boots on either. When I arrived home, the steps were so slippery I nearly had to crawl up them. I looked at the clock; I had been gone only 20 minutes!
The other experience was yesterday, at church. A little boy was "received" into the church, using the Baptismal service, to celebrate his life. You see, last spring, he was near death for several weeks with a rare infection. Every prayer group we knew about was enlisted to pray for this 4-month old. Our priest explained that during one particularly dark time, when it looked like the baby would not survive the night, the frantic father asked the priest to baptise the child. With just the father and mother, and a cup of water, the priest did just that.
Of course, there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Some of us were quietly crying, as Fr. Jeromy told this story. The child in question, having had enough of all this nonsense, chose that time to slip out of his father's arms and crawl quickly out of the pew and down the aisle. The laughter was a welcome release, as his proud dad chased him. Tears flowed again, however, as we repeated our Baptismal vows and Fr. J., holding the child in his arms, brought him down the aisle so that we could welcome him into the church. Fr. J., would say, "R., this is Mrs. S., she welcomes you." People smiled through their tears, touched the baby's hand, and each said something loving to him. Come to think of it, maybe these two experiences are related after all. The power of God never ceases to shake me to my core.
I have been reading a few journals from Lyra's links. I do need to learn how to do this myself...link up, that is. And then I need to learn how to E-Mail to the writers I like so that I can respond to some of the entries with which I really connect. Lyra showed me some of this, but I'm such a technological chicken...
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