Hurricane Remnants and Travel

Last June, when I left Indiana after the first TEEM onground intensive that I attended, I thought ahead to our next gathering in October, where I anticipated autumnal shifts with still-warm days.

I did not anticipate a hurricane affecting the weather that far inland.  But here we are.  I've changed travel plans, and instead of leaving on Sunday, I'm leaving in a few hours.  There's already a bit of rain here, but nothing like what is expected later this morning.

We are supposed to have record breaking warmth in the 80's in the early part of the week, and cooler temps by week's end.  I have packed a variety of clothes--lots of layers for my upper body, some with sleeves and some not, and shorts for my lower body which is odd-shaped and hard to fit for long pants in this time of my life.

This hurricane has turned out to be a normal-ish hurricane, not a monster that zoomed up several categories just before landfall--how refreshing!  It moved ashore as a category 2, very survivable for most structures--not a fun way to spend an evening, but likely not life threatening for many.

I am still glad I changed my travel plans.  I should be able to stay ahead of the storm remnants today, and it will be good to head into the week being better rested.

Recording of Yesterday's Sermon in the Outdoor Pavilion

As we drove across the mountain to Bristol, Tennessee yesterday, we wondered if we would have worship in the outdoor pavilion, the way we had planned.  Our weather apps told us that the rain would be going away in time for worship, but the dark clouds suggested otherwise.

We got to church, where everyone gathered early to set up was checking their weather apps.  The teenagers encouraged us to go with the outdoor plan, and so, we did.  And the rain held off, and worship was wonderful.  We had two visitors, a couple who are closing on their house and moving down from Maine, so I was glad that worship went well.  We had a barbecue lunch afterward, and they stayed, which also made me happy.

My sermon went well--I revamped the whole thing Sunday morning, so there, too, I was glad that it went well.  If you want to view the sermon, the recording is here on my YouTube channel.  If you'd like to read along, I posted the sermon manuscript in this blog post.

Rain and Writing

It's the kind of rainy morning that's saying, "Wait and walk later."  Of course, the risk in waiting is that I might not go at all:  it could continue to rain or I could submit to laziness.  It's the kind of rainy morning where I have writing that I need to do, so waiting to walk makes sense.  

I was feeling bad that I had no sermon rough draft written, but by last night I was glad.  We went to the last fish fry of the season at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, TN, where we discovered that a church member had made aprons for everyone, reversible at that.  As I looked at us all wearing our aprons, I thought about Pentecost and the metaphors for the Holy Spirit, and I got an idea that hadn't been there before.  I don't want to write about it further, for fear of losing the energy of the idea.  Once I've posted the sermon, I'll come back and put the links in this post. 

I am happy for the rain, even if it means my walk never happens.  We've been in such a deep drought across the southeast.

Of course, last night I was not happy for the rain as we drove back from the fish fry.  At first, as we left at 7:30, it was beautiful, with clouds across the mountain.  The rain settled in as we got to the top of the mountain; once we got to the road construction outside of Asheville, the rain got heavier and the road conditions worse with construction debris and barriers and various lines on the road.  I have rarely been more relieved when we pulled into our driveway as I was last night.

Let me keep this blog post short so that I can take advantage of this rainy morning and get my Pentecost sermon written.

Snow Days and School Days and Anxiety

This morning, I'm feeling oddly anxious.  I have much less reason to feel anxious this week than last.  The ice storm wasn't as bad as we feared it might be.  I had been worried that the seminary class that I'm taking starts Thursday, and I haven't gotten a Zoom link or seen a course shell uploaded in Canvas--this morning, it's there.  We have power, internet, and water, and I have another remote learning day today, so I don't have to worry about the roads.  My spouse had jury duty today--also cancelled.

So why the anxiety?

I've been trying to get to the bottom of my anxiety, trying to understand.  I'm sure part of my anxiety stems from my schedule ramping back up again--so, even though this week includes some extra time at home, most weeks won't be like this.  I've also been feeling anxiety about taking another seminary class with worries about all that could go wrong trying to take root in my brain.  What if the Zoom link doesn't work?  What if the class requires too much of me?  What if this class is the one that breaks me?

I do have to laugh at myself.  I've been taking online classes for 5 years, and I've never run into problems I couldn't solve.  I explored the course shell, and the assignments look manageable.  I have the textbooks.  And then there's the larger situation:  I'm not a 25 year old, just starting out on my life's journey.  I have a full-time job that doesn't depend on this seminary class.

My anxiety might also be sadness masquerading as anxiety.  Why am I sad?  Well, I've enjoyed these snow days, even as I felt anxious about all the ice that might fall.  I'm sad to see this snow vacation come to an end, sad even as I have at least one more day to enjoy.

Let me make a list of some moments that I don't want to slip away:

--I've enjoyed the cooking we've done,  from the seafood stew on Saturday to last night's homemade pizza made in cast iron pans.  I've baked bread, both an oatmeal bread on Saturday and a pumpkin bread this morning.

--We watched Sinners on Saturday--what an amazing movie!  If it hadn't gotten so much Oscar buzz, I might have skipped it, thinking it would be too gory a horror movie.  Thankfully, the gory parts weren't too gross, and the horror bits weren't haunting.

--I've done a lot of sewing and sorting of fabric.  I decided that I was ready for a change from the Christmas fabrics that I had been using, so yesterday I made the shift back to the same type of project, sewing log cabin patchwork out of scraps, but using a wider variety of fabrics.

--Yesterday I took an unintended nap.  I had laid down in the late morning to watch the glitter snow that developed in the morning but was only visible when seen through sunshine.  The trees gleamed through their ice glaze.  Next thing I knew, I was waking up from a deep kind of nap.

Hurricane Prep, Winter Storm Prep

It's been an interesting process, preparing for this widespread winter storm.  In some ways, it's reminded me of hurricane prep, especially in terms of making sure we have the supplies that we need, in case we're cut off from the world for several days.  

But of course, a winter storm is different than a hurricane.  I haven't been worried about the perishable food in the refrigerator--if we lose power, we can put the food outside.  I have been researching carbon monoxide risks with a propane heater that's rated for indoor use, something we never would have needed in South Florida.

Just like with a hurricane, it's hard to know what part of the storm will arrive with what intensity.  So far, we're doing fairly well here, but that could change this afternoon.  And let me be clear, when I say we're doing fairly well here, I am not leaving the house because of the wintry mix that fell and keeps falling and the slick surfaces.  But we have electricity, and so far, the tree branches seem to be their normal shape.

I have gotten most of my information through various online weather sites, not the TV news.  I wonder if the coverage is the same kind of intensity as hurricane approaching coverage.  One of my colleagues at Spartanburg Methodist was so freaked out by it all that she left town, and there was a moment when I wondered if she took the wiser approach.  If the ice had been thicker, if we were out of power for a week or more, I'd say that she was the smart one.  I may yet--we still have hours of precipitation yet to fall.

I do wonder how much of my jitteriness has also been because of Hurricane Helene.  I filled up the stock pot with water, to go with some of our jugs of water left over from Helene--just in case the water system goes down.  Before Hurricane Helene, I wouldn't have thought I needed to worry about that here in the mountains.

I'm glad we decided to cancel worship.  I would not have been able to make it across the mountain, and I am guessing that the roads in Bristol, Tennessee are as bad or worse than they are here.  

My spouse suggested that I do an abbreviated worship, and so I experimented with that this morning.  I did a Facebook Live broadcast on my Facebook page, and then I captured the video so that I could put it on my YouTube channel (you can view it here).  The Facebook post has already gotten more views than almost anything else I've done there.  I don't really know what counts as a view, so I am not reading too much into this.

I'll close with a prayer I wrote for the Sunday devotional time:  

Creator God, as we wait for the storms to pass, give us patience and strength. Help us to remember that you are with us in every kind of weather, both the literal weather and the other types of storms that threaten us. Inspire us to be the light of the world, today and every day.

Crystalline Shards and Fragments

 I am feeling fragmented today, so let me capture some fragments:

--Part of why I'm feeling fragmented is the shifting forecast.  Will we be able to go to Bristol on Sunday?  It's very unclear.  There's a system that will likely snow on part of the Carolinas--but will it be closer to the coast?

--So, should I write a sermon?  Yes, I probably should.  And if church is cancelled this Sunday, I can probably tweak it so that it works for next week.  This Sunday is the call story of Peter and Andrew in the Gospel of John, and next week is the same story in Matthew.

--Why do we have these two call stories?  I'm assuming it's because of where the moving holidays fall, specifically Easter and the Baptism of Jesus.  

--If I have to write a sermon about each, what on earth will I say?  The Gospel of John has the words "Come and see."  The Gospel of Matthew has the fishing for humans language.

--My brain zings back to class planning.  It's not unpleasant, but it does remind me of why/how the times when I'm teaching in-person classes is SO different from the times when Spartanburg Methodist College is on a break.

--All of my classes have met for their first day.  They all feel good, with at least a few students who seem bright-eyed and ready to get going.

--So now the easy part is over.  Now I need to focus on what we're going to do each day.  I have broad ideas.  I understand why some people start the semester with day by day course plans, but I never have done that.

--If I did that, would I feel like I have more time to focus on other things?  I would feel that way, but I would probably not do the other things, like poetry writing.  

--I think about sermon writing, which I do every week.  If I had a weekly poetry assignment, like a paid column, would I be more focused week after week?  Yes, if I had a paid gig, I would.

--I think I will walk this morning.  It's going to be cold and windy all day, so I might as well walk early.  And maybe there will be snow flurries!

--I was hoping for a bit of snow yesterday afternoon, but alas.  We prepared as if there might be snow:  charging the phones, bringing the portable heater inside, making a pot of chili, that kind of thing.  Despite the lack of snow, it was cozy and nice.

--We're getting a bit more light outside, a very filtered light just before sunrise.  I think that it might be snowing now.  Or perhaps it snowed more last night than I thought.  But as I look across the trees, it does look snowy.

--When I took the last of the recycling to the curb a half hour ago, the air itself seemed crystalline. There weren't many snow flurries, but I could feel tiny shards of ice on my face--not altogether unpleasant, but not the joy of snow either.   

Hurricane Helene, One Year Later

At this time a year ago, I'd be up and about, as I always am, doing some hurricane tracking, thinking about last minute packing.  A year ago, my plan was to wait for sunrise and then drive to Williamsburg, where I was scheduled to lead a writing workshop at my mom's women's retreat.  A year ago, I thought I might wait until mid-morning to leave, when I expected the worst of the rain from the remnants of Hurricane Helene to be over.

By mid-morning, trees were crashing all around our neighborhood.  Thankfully, none fell on our house, but some of our neighbors were not so lucky.  When I saw big trees across the neighborhood roads, I realized I wasn't leaving in the afternoon.  I asked my neighbor across the street if she thought I could get out of town on Saturday morning.  She said, "I don't think you'll be going on your trip."

She was right.  By afternoon, North Carolina authorities advised that all roads in western North Carolina be considered impassible.  Of course, I didn't know that, because I was trying to conserve cell phone power.  Our power went off just before 5:30 a.m. and didn't come back on for over a week.  Internet and water proved harder to restore.  We did have running water for all but a few days.  We had to boil it, but it did come clear out of the taps, so it was safe for flushing and relatively safe for showers (I was careful not to let any get in my eyes or mouth).  We were without internet for 20 days, and happily, most days our phones could work as a hotspot.

This year, I am in Williamsburg, hoping to lead my writing workshop today.  This year, it is raining, and I'm reminding myself that I am safe.  This year, I'm saying a prayer for all those who will find today a tough day, with hurricane memories and other triggers. 

Misty Morning with Haiku

It has been a week of perfect autumnal weather, the kind of September weather I used to envy when we lived in South Florida, and we had months to go before we would get any relief from relentless heat.  It's been the kind of weather where we have warm/hot days followed by cool nights and misty mornings.  There's rain here and there, but nothing that disrupts plans.

This morning, I'll go for a shorter walk than usual.  I'm being observed this morning in my English 101 class, so I want to give myself plenty of travel time.  I'm not stressed about the observation itself, which is a nice change of pace.  I know that the people in charge are not looking for a reason to get rid of me, and that's not always been the case in my teaching life.  But I don't want traffic to snarl up my headspace, so I'll give myself extra travel time.

Here's a photo from Monday's walk, in which the mist enthralled me, and I stopped to get the perfect photo to go with the haiku I composed while I walked.  I'll post the haiku-like creation below the photo:

Misty cathedral

composed of early bird song

baptism by fog

Cancelling Worship Service

If this was a normal Sunday, we'd be heading to Bristol, Tennessee by now, where I am the Synod Appointed Minister for Faith Lutheran.  But this morning, we've cancelled service.  Since we had bulletins and music prepared, I recommended that we do tomorrow's service a week later, on January 19.  The Baptism of Our Lord seems more important than the Wedding at Cana, the lectionary reading for Jan. 19. 

I spent part of yesterday morning looking at weather reports and special weather statements, and I was certain that canceling worship and Sunday School was wise--and I am still certain.  We've had a lot of snow and ice, and while many roads are passable, some would have frozen again overnight.  My spouse and I had decided that we would not make the trip across the mountains, regardless of whether or not the church decided to go ahead with worship.

But I also thought we should cancel so that everyone could stay home in good conscience.  I know that there are some folks in every church group who will be there if the doors are open, no matter how ill advised it is to travel.  We can help people stay safe by canceling activities.

And there's the issue of the parking lot and how to get it cleared in time for worship.  The forecast was for snow all of yesterday afternoon.  Most of our members are older and should not be out shoveling the parking lot on a Sunday morning, with temperatures under 20 degrees (it was forecast to be 7 degrees).

When the sun came out late Saturday, I felt a brief pang of guilt.  Even though I was sure that canceling worship and Sunday school was the right thing to do, I still wondered if we had made the right call.  Happily, I only let myself think that for a minute.  The facts were still the same, no matter how long we had sun yesterday afternoon when the temperature was still below freezing.   The roads would be bad, the parking lot would be covered in snow, and we needed to keep people safe.

I felt a bit better throughout the evening as I saw other churches at a variety of elevations make similar decisions, to cancel.  In the South, even in the mountains, we don't get many winter storms these days.  Last winter, Faith Lutheran only canceled worship once because of a winter storm, and they canceled for the same reasons we canceled today:  too much risk of slipping on ice.

And yet, there's still a part of me that feels a twinge of guilt, which I find interesting.  It's not like the roads cleared overnight.  It's the same twinge of guilt that makes me want to lace up my shoes and take a walk--the roads aren't clear yet, but I still need exercise.

Happily, I have gotten better at ignoring that voice that wants me to feel guilt.  And so I shall stay indoors a bit longer, give the roads a chance to get clear, and go for a walk this afternoon--and look forward to next week, when it will be safe to assemble as a congregation again.

A Delightful Snow Day

 We had a delightful snow day yesterday.  I will say from the beginning that one reason why it was delightful is that we didn't have to go anywhere.  I'm grateful that Spartanburg Methodist College moved to remote learning yesterday.

I thought it might start snowing earlier than it did.  I went to the grocery store early, even though we didn't need much.  We brought in some dry wood in for the fireplace, and the small heater that is approved for indoor use with butane, just in case the power went out.  I decided to take my walk earlyish, and I hoped that it would start snowing as I was walking.  But that didn't happen either.  I did a bit of remote work with students and course shells, and finally, the snow started falling.

It was the best kind of snow, the kind that falls gently, with no ice, the kind that doesn't take down electric lines or freeze the plumbing.  There were moments throughout the afternoon where I couldn't take my eyes away from the beautiful scenes outside.

Every so often, I walked outside to take a picture.  But I didn't want to linger too much.  I didn't want to spend the snow day in an emergency room because I slipped and broke my wrist.  Happily, it never seemed very slick.

As I was walking back to the house, I was struck by the color of the door and the evergreens growing just off our porch; the picture looks more vivid on my phone:

We made a pot of chili and a cast iron skillet of corn bread and watched a bit of TV.  It was a delightful day.  

This morning, I walked to the street to take another picture. 

We also measured the snow; we only got just over an inch.  I don't know what to expect at this point.  We won't have temperatures above freezing until Monday.  I am not planning to drive anywhere today.  Happily, I don't need to go anywhere.

I did decide that we won't try to make it over the mountain tomorrow for church at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  I wrote to church leadership suggesting that we cancel activities, but it's up to them.  If they have worship, I'll send the sermon, but I'm recommending that we save everything for next Sunday.

Epiphany 2025

I am one of those people who always checks the weather.  In part, it's because I want to make sure I'm dressed for whatever is coming, and in part, because I want to be prepared in other ways.  On Saturday, the church council president texted me to ask if I was concerned about the weather.  On Saturday, the weather service for Bristol, TN was forecasting the wintery mix to begin falling in the middle of the afternoon.  I thought we had plenty of time to clear out of town before that happened, and I wasn't too worried about travel across the mountains.  Plus I knew that the forecast for our side of the mountains didn't call for any moisture at all.

I had a great Sunday planned, and the energy in the church was wonderful.  The church was still decorated for Christmas, and during the children's sermon, I gave them each a fabric angel.  

We talked about how God speaks to us, through angel choirs and stars, and that the most important thing to remember is that if you hear a voice telling you that you're worthless, it's not God talking, but someone else.  If they remember nothing else from our time together, I hope they remember that one message that I bring up periodically.

Then I had the youth help pass out the Epiphany stars:

My sermon talked about our Christmas to Epiphany journey, how God spoke to people then and how God still speaks to people now.  I thought it went well.  You can view it for yourself and decide; it's posted here on my YouTube channel; you can also read a version in this post on this blog.

As we processed out to "Hark the Herald Angels Sing," I looked out the plate glass door to the church and realized it was snowing.  I wasn't really concerned, since it had just started.  

We had planned to take communion to a parishioner in the hospital on our way back, but I became more and more concerned about how rapidly the weather conditions were deteriorating.  So we decided to just keep pressing ahead.  We got onto I 81, and then I got really concerned about how the conditions were deteriorating, how much slush there was on the interstate, which had been treated with a de-icing agent, but was still slick in places, with icy rain/sleet/snow falling from the sky.

Happily, we were headed south, so even though we climbed in elevation to get across the mountain range, the wintry mix changed to rain.  We stopped at the welcome center on the NC/TN border to chip away at the ice that had formed on the windshield and wipers.  The whole front of the car was cased in ice, something neither one of us had ever seen before (and my spouse grew up in Indiana in the snowy 70's).

It took much longer than our usual commute home, but we made it home safely.  We made a stir fry and settled in to watch Street Gang:  How We Got to Sesame Street.  The documentary of the early days of Sesame Street was just what we needed for Epiphany Eve.  It was wonderful to be reminded of the magic that can happen when people are set free to experiment, to try something new, to see what happens.

And here we are, another Epiphany.  It makes me sad that for many people, this date will be associated with violent domestic attack on the U.S. Capitol, instead of a day of thinking about insights and new information.  Of course, the Epiphany story has always had a shadow side, a jealous ruler (Herod) and insecurity that leads to a bloodbath.

Today and every day, we would be wise to think of our own power, our own feelings of inadequacy, how we attempt to control the elements of our lives or how we don't.  We would be wise to think about all the strangers who show up to tell us of a different way, a different paradigm.  We would be wise to keep our eyes trained to larger vistas.

Partial Restoration

I wrote this post earlier this morning, but had no way to post it, since I still have no internet:

I sit here writing on this desk that was damaged by Hurricane Irma, almost exactly 2 weeks to the day and time we lost power in Hurricane Helene. What’s remarkable about that sentence is that we went through Hurricane Helene in the mountains of North Carolina.

We are just south of Asheville, so we have been spared the worst. We did go without electricity for two weeks, and we still can’t drink our water right out of the tap. But water does come out of the tap, and we can flush the toilets without a bucket. We still don’t have house internet restored, but the phone can work as a hot spot.

If I didn’t live so much of my life online, with classes that I teach and classes that I’m taking for seminary, this might have been an enjoyable time off. But I’ve needed to have an internet connection almost daily, so twice I’ve gone to a friend’s house in Columbia, SC to stay for 48 hours, and this week, my local church, Lutheran Church of the Nativity, opened up their fellowship hall from 10-2 to offer the community a place to charge devices, free wi-fi, and free water, both drinkable and not. It’s been a great service to members and the community.

As I reflect on our experience, I’m realizing how many parts of our lives have prepared us for these weeks that have been somewhat off the grid. We’ve kept some of our hurricane supplies and equipment, like the French press coffee pot. When we remodeled the kitchen, we chose a gas stove, thinking that if the power went off in an ice storm, we could still cook or heat water. Through the years, we’ve lived in various houses in various states of remodel and those experiences have given us skills in doing without modern conveniences.

I will be the first to admit that I did not take this storm seriously, and I won’t make that mistake again. It was my spouse who filled up our first round of water containers and captured rain water in every five gallon bucket he could find. We had both cars full of gas, but that was a fluke. I thought I’d be commuting, and I wanted to fill our cars up on Wednesday night, not Thursday when it would be raining. We had some cash on hand; we’d have had more if I hadn’t spent it at the farmer’s market a week earlier. It was a fluke that we had it at all.

Today I return to work at Spartanburg Methodist College. This past week, both the schools where I teach were closed due to different hurricanes, and today they will both be open.. Tomorrow we make the trip to Bristol, and then on Sunday, from Bristol I go to DC for the onground intensive week for two of my seminary classes. I hate that I will be missing my onground classes for a week so soon after this long hurricane break, but it can’t be helped. I had planned to spend this past week getting the students prepped for my week away, but now I’ll have them write about their hurricane experience.

Hurricane Helene Breaking Points

 One week ago, I would be sitting in the dark.  I would have gotten up early, as I always do, and when I made the coffee, I thought, let me make this now, before the power goes out.  But I didn't expect the power to go out so early.  I didn't think it would still be out a week later, at least not back a week ago when the lights first went out.

I had just made this Facebook post at 3:27 a.m., when I got up to check on the progress of the storm:  "Why I could never be a forecaster for the National Hurricane Center. I would say something like, "Hurricane Helene is in Flannery O'Connor country now. Beware of odd men in black cars, Helene. If a Bible salesman tries to seduce you, just keep going. You're in strange territory now, but you'll emerge able to tell stories of grace and salvation in new and terrifying ways."

The power went out, and I sat there for a few minutes.  I went to get a flashlight, and then I assembled our other battery run lights, which are mostly strings of fairy lights.  Happily, we have lots and lots of AA batteries to keep them running:

I've had a few breaking points along the way.  It's surreal to be experiencing a hurricane so far inland.  But we've done this before, and we know what to do and how to endure.  I felt a brief moment of panic the first time that water didn't come out of the tap.  But I reminded myself that other communities aren't impacted, and I can get to them to buy what I need.

My latest gulp/grief moment came last night when I looked up ways to get to Bristol, Tennessee, where I usually preach and preside on Sundays.  I saw a post that said the most direct way, across I 26, would be closed until March of 2025.  I tried to find information on alternate routes.

Not for the first time, I wish I had a paper map.  But even a paper map won't tell me which roads are washed away.  I can't find a website that tells me either--and yes, I've gone to the obvious ones, and they tell me the information might not be accurate because roads may have been washed away.

I will not be making the trip this Sunday.  We are still being asked to stay off those roads, which may or may not be there, so that emergency crews and restoration teams can get to where they are needed.  I will try making the trip next week-end, and then I'll see what the future brings.

Hurricane Helene Aftermath: The Overview

I don't have time to write a long post today.  I'm at a friend's house who has power, water, and internet, which I don't have at my house.  I need to make the most of this time with those things to catch up on seminary work, get some grading done for my online classes, and then I need to do some shopping and banking before heading up the mountain on Friday.

Last Friday, we lost electric at 4:30 a.m.,  as I was writing a blog post about how I didn't expect to suffer many effects from Hurricane Helene beyond some additional rain.  I didn't worry too much until a few hours later when trees started to fall.

Hurricane Helene's Position when the Power Went Out

We are fortunate.  No trees fell on our property or our house, like the 3 that fell on a neighbor's house:

We have spent the last week trying to help our less fortunate neighbors.  

We haven't had much internet access and spotty cell phone service, so it's been good to have a purpose.

Yesterday I headed to a friend's house in Columbia.  I needed to get to a place that had power and enough cell phone service that I could use my phone as a hotspot.  Happily, last night her internet was restored.  Today I plan to write and grade and try to regroup.

Spartanburg Methodist College still doesn't have power, so I don't know if classes will resume on Monday as previously planned.  My friend has offered to have me come back next week, and I may take her up on it if SMC doesn't have power.  I will need to do some additional class work, both for my seminary classes and the online classes that I teach.

I am still stunned by this storm.  I still find it surreal that I moved hundreds of miles inland and still found myself in this situation, and I'm still surprised, as I always am, that a tropical storm strength event can do this amount of damage.  I am hopeful that this will be a once a century storm, and I won't have to see this kind of storm in the mountains again.  But I am also suffering under no delusions that past planetary performance can predict future performance.

But let me once again stress that overall, I am in good spirits.  I know that I am lucky:  I have friends, family, support, a great neighborhood, resources of all kinds.

Prayers for Those in the Path of Hurricane Helene

Here I sit, in the mountains of North Carolina, monitoring Hurricane Helene which is forecast to move this far inland as a tropical storm. We will likely be fine, as this part of the mountain range doesn't dissolve into landslides or flood. But I do worry about all of those who won't be fine.

And so, I pray.  Not that God changes the path of the storm, but for those in the pathc.

I have always felt weird about praying about the path of hurricanes. For one thing, I'm not sure that God gets involved in the laws of physics that way.

But for another, I'm aware that if I'm saved by the hurricane going elsewhere, it means doom for someone else.

But if we can't pray in the face of a force of destruction, when can we pray? Here are some prayers that others have written. I found this posted on Facebook, originally posted on the ELCA Worship page as Hurricane Harvey approached:

"We pray for those in the path of Hurricane Harvey:

Merciful God, when the storms rage and threaten to overtake us, awaken our faith to know the power of your peace. Deliver us from our fear and ease our anxiety. Help us to endure the time of uncertainty and give us strength to face the challenges ahead. Give us the assurance of your presence even in this time so that we can cling to your promise of hope and life shown to us through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen."

And here's a shorter prayer from Holden Evening Prayer:

"Grant weather that nourishes all of creation."

Blessed Brides and Other Blessings

Once again, I am up early for this time zone in Arkansas, writing in the CCC room, sipping coffee shared with me by the front desk park ranger who has been here all night, keeping watch while the rest of us slept.  I am happy to have slept through the night because at 3 a.m. I banished the thought that said, "Screw it.  Might as well get up and get the day started."  I managed to get back to sleep and slept until just before 5, which is always a rare event for me.

I am up and thinking of yesterday's dramatic weather as I hear the rumbles of thunder:

Yesterday morning's view from the patio overlook was the most clear that the skies were going to be for the rest of the day:

I don't have a picture of today's view; it's early and most of the exterior doors are locked.  I'm set up here at this table, with thunder rumbling, and I don't feel like tromping around outside.  Yesterday when I first heard thunder rumbling, we were an hour away from the rains and storms that lasted all day.

The afternoon wedding had already been moved so that we could be near a shelter, and all day, we kept  an eye both to the skies and social media, in case plans changed.  We had been told the shelter was 13 miles up a road that was described as both muddy and gravel with limited parking when we got there.  I had already decided to wear my running shoes, and frankly, I wish I had a pair of sturdy hiking boots because I would have worn those too.  I am envisioning my elder years as shod in boots of various sorts. But I digress.

I wore a pair of shorts on under my skirt.  If the vehicle got stuck in the mud, I could take off my skirt and not ruin it.  I'm not sure what I thought I would do after that, but it made me feel better to be prepared that way.  In my sneakers with shorts on under my skirt, it also made me feel like my 5th grade self.  That grade, we all wore shorts under our dresses and skirts because the boys delighted in trying to expose our nether regions.  Even once they got tired of the game, it felt good to have that protection.  But I digress.

We made our way up the road in the most rugged vehicle we had, and it wasn't as bad as we had been told.  Although cloudy, the weather was perfect.  That weather did not hold.

Just before the ceremony, I looked up the severe weather alert, and then I looked up which county we were in.  The weather alert told us to take shelter immediately.  I don't think the weather folks had our shelter in mind.

The view was dramatic, as I watched various weather systems moving across the land below.  And when the ceremony started, the clouds descended and mist moved through the shelter.  The guests were able to avoid most of the rain, but I can't say the same for the wedding party.

Happily, we avoided the kind of headline I envisioned when I saw the weather alert that warned of dangerous lightning and 60 mph winds.  We took post ceremony pictures in the rain, and then we moved down the mountain to an enclosed picnic shelter for the reception.

We talked about the old folk wisdom that a bride who has rain on her wedding day will have a blessed marriage.  If that's true, the bride in our family is blessed beyond measure.

As I sat at a picnic table watching adults and children dance, I thought about how we are all blessed beyond measure, with food in our stomachs and weather the only threat from above.  We have come through many storms already, and I know that more will come.  But it's good to remember that we have more people rooting for us than we may know, the ones who are there in person, the ones who pray from far places.

March, Meteorological Spring

 A new month--is March coming in like a lion or a lamb?  It depends.  We have a wintry mix forecast for this morning, but tomorrow, the high is supposed to be in the 60's.  Of course, in month we expect this meteorological whiplash.  It is the first day of Spring--meteorological spring.

Earlier this week, I had wondered if my daffodil bulbs would spring into life.  Around the neighborhood, we have lots of daffodils in full bloom.  My yard doesn't have as much sun as the rest of the neighborhood so I haven't been surprised that my daffodils aren't showing signs of life.

And then, on Wednesday, when I took the trash cans to the curb in the late afternoon, I saw the first stalks from my bulbs, the ones that we planted along the fence line.  An hour later, when my spouse noticed stalks along the other fence line.  I would swear that they weren't there when I took my walk in the morning.  If I had camped out by the fence line in the afternoon, would I have seen the stalks poking through the soil and leaf cover?

My brain always turns to metaphors, but I'm aware of the dangers of a tired and worn out metaphor.  But the metaphor of seeds and bulbs sprouting before anyone realizes what's going on--that metaphor always seems relevant to me, even though admittedly, it's not a new metaphor.  

I think of all the parables of Jesus, parables that involve seeds and soil--yes, not a new metaphor at all.

And now, the wintry mix is falling.  It's much more ice/freezing rain than it is snow.  Hang on, little daffodils!

Winter Weather Inspirations

When we left the house yesterday morning, we thought we'd stay for the covered dish dinner after the worship service at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  But as we approached the higher elevations at 7:45 in the morning, snow started to swirl.  On the other side of the mountain, in Bristol, it wasn't snowing, but the forecast called for rain to turn to snow in the early afternoon, so we decided not to stay for lunch.

On our way back across the mountains, I was surprised by how much snow had stuck to the ground and the trees while we were in Bristol.  The roads were still in good shape, wet, yes, but not frozen.  I was glad we had decided to get back earlier than planned.  The higher elevations were under a winter storm warning, so it was good to get up and over earlier rather than later.

Later, I tried to sketch what I had seen. As with last year, the first glance of a winter landscape looks like variations of gray and black to me, but when I look closer, I see lots of browns, along with some deep greens and burgundies.  I continue to try to capture what I see, but both my skills and my art supplies (Copic markers) are inadequate.

In many ways, it's much more fun to take the longer view (and to take more time):

Last week, I tried to sketch the winter sky, as it shifted from blue to snow, and I thought I had failed.  I was happy to look at my sketchbook last night and like this picture more than I remembered:

A goal for my sketching practice for this year is to include snippets of observations that might become poems.  Here's one of my favorites so far (the sketch itself doesn't photograph well):

Squirrels scamper

across the spines of winter trees.

Skeletons of past springs.

Sunset coming, cold winter sky.

Soon I will bundle up and head out for a different kind of inspiration, the kind that comes from a walk in the winter landscape.  It's the kind of day that will be windy and cold all day, so I may as well go early before I can talk myself out of it. 

A Sunday Snow Day

Yesterday Faith Lutheran, the church that I serve in Bristol, Tennessee as a Synodical Appointed Minister, decided to cancel worship and Sunday school this Sunday.  I understand the decision; it's been snowing in Bristol for much of the week and more is expected, along with bitter cold.  The lay leadership looked at the weather, thought about the danger of us driving across the mountain in sub-zero temperature (so rare for North Carolina!), and the probability of minimal turn out, and they made the call.

I am glad that it's not up to me.  My weather on the other side of the mountain, 2 hours further south, is significantly different.  The lay leadership understands the congregation in a way that I don't.  And frankly, when I see clergy argue about whether or not to cancel worship services, I always agree with the people who argue for cancelling so that the more fragile members of the congregation stay safe.  I know enough people who feel that they must be in the pews if the church offers a service that I understand why it's important to cancel when the weather is treacherous.

For utterly selfish reasons, I'm glad they made this decision early because I haven't written my sermon for Sunday yet.  I've done some research, my spouse and I have had conversations about possible approaches, and I was ready to write, but it's fine with me that this sermon doesn't come into existence.

I may take advantage of this opportunity to attend a totally different service.  I'm taking Foundations of Worship in seminary this term, and here's one of our assignments:  

"Visit two liturgical settings unfamiliar to you (does not need to be on a Sunday). You have the
option of conducting one of the two visits online (synchronously or asynchronously). For each site,
write a 1000-1100-word brief that includes 1) your observations and reflection of the experience,
2) a theological analysis of a particular liturgical rite of your choosing from the service, and 3)
compare this rite with whatever corresponds from within the liturgical tradition/s most familiar to
you, describing your observations of similarities and differences."

Most of the opportunities are on a Sunday, so I don't have many options when it comes to completing this assignment, since most Sundays this term I'll be preaching.  I thought about Wednesday possibilities, but I'm in class on Wednesday night.

Let me keep thinking about how I can best use this snow day.

Autumnal Equinox in the Mountains and in the Wellness Center

Autumn has arrived!  The autumnal equinox came early this year, at 2:50 a.m.  And yes, I was awake, even though I was trying to fall back asleep.  We had the window open, and for weeks now, the trees have been dropping something that makes a loud pop when it hits the tin roofs that are all around us (we have traditional shingles).  You would think I would be used to that noise by now, but I am not.

I lay awake this morning reflecting on how the night noise has changed through the summer.  A month ago, the noise of crickets and cicadas lasted until 3 a.m. or so.  Now that noise is much subdued, but the loud pops have increased.

We are celebrating the equinox in an unusual way.  Later this morning, we'll get in our car and head to Bristol, Tennessee.  My grandmother's side of the family is having a reunion at Faith Lutheran today.  We'll gather at the church, enjoy a picnic in the outdoor pavilion, and be done by 8 p.m.  Tomorrow, some of us will worship at the church where I will be leading worship.  If we all go to church, we'll increase the worship attendance by about 50%.

I think about the older generation, my grandmother's generation, who are no longer with us.  What would they make of this reunion?  I imagine they would be thrilled, at least with the evening meal.  They would be happy that so many of us would be going to church.  By the time that they died, I think that most of them would be O.K. with a woman leading worship. 

The weather looks perfect.  We are far enough away from the coast that tropical storm Ophelia won't affect us.  I am glad that my parents left Williamsburg yesterday.  That area floods even when there isn't a tropical system, so I'm glad they're not dealing with that.

Today I am thinking about past autumnal equinoxes.  One year I was at the Wellness Center in downtown Fort Lauderdale--it was on the 8th floor and had great windows.  I was there for a 6:30 p.m. fitness (not spin) class.  Out to the east we saw the full moon rising and out to the west we could see the sun setting.  It felt magical, like an unusual alignment even though it happens every year (although the moon isn't full every year and doesn't rise at the same time each equinox).

I am so happy to be in a place where autumn means a change in my surroundings:  cooler temperatures, leaves changing, apple orchards operating at full speed.