Saturday, February 12, 2022                                     (today’s lectionary)
Just a quiet morning in Lake Urbana
I brought mittens and a stocking cap, and at last today the weather is cold enough for me to wear them. Before I leave for Lincoln this morning, I’ll take the garbage and recycling out. I’ll put my snowshovel away and make sure a new furnace filter is in place down in the crawl space. There is food in our freezer to take back to Austin.
Before I leave I’ll turn off the water and turn down the thermostats on furnace and hot water heater. I’ll unplug the computer, TV and router, toaster, coffee maker and teapot. And I’ll whisper my goodbyes and wave. Our house is a very, very, very fine house. I’ll miss you.
The snow fell and fell, and now it’s done falling. It melted while I was in Illinois, but there are still several inches left unmelted on the ground. The white snow is getting dirty, it needs a new coat if it’s going to stick around much longer.
Snow by Anne Sexton
Snow,
blessed snow,
comes out of the sky
like bleached flies.
The ground is no longer naked.
The ground has on its clothes.
The trees poke out of sheets
and each branch wears the sock of God.
There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
I bite it.
Someone once said:
Don’t bite till you know
if it’s bread or stone.
What I bite is all bread,
rising, yeasty as a cloud.
There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
Today God gives milk
and I have the pail.
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Jesus would like to have fed me, I’m sure.
If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will collapse on the way, and some of them have come a great distance.
And now that I think twice, Jesus did just that.
There were seven loaves and a few fish. Jesus said the blessing over them and the disciples distributed them among the four thousand people. Later, they picked up the leftovers.
I had meals with Marc and my friend Jim, wonderful feasts at friendly restaurants. There were baskets of food left over and I brought them home.
There were seven baskets of bread and fish left over.
They won’t last forever, but I’ll eat spaghetti and meatballs in my motel tomorrow night, watching the Super Bowl. Go Bengals! Why not? The Cleveland Browns beat them twice this year, and my friend Albert in Cleveland is rooting for them. And Mr. Joe Burrow is a magician.
It’s been a quiet week in Lake Urbana. Without a doubt I’m happy to be here. There will be time, there will be time, for a hundred decisions and revisions. But I’ll be back in a month, and plug everything back in, and there might be new snow on all the rooftops once again.
Jesus dismissed the crowd and got into the boat with his disciples.
Anne Sexton, “Snow” from The Awful Rowing Toward God. Reprinted by Garrison Keillor in Writer’s Almanac, 2/8/22
 (1 Kings 12, Psalm 106, Matthew 4, Mark 8)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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