I remember telling friends in California that we more often had snow on Thanksgiving and Easter than we did on Christmas — but I didn't really mean like this.
Most of the morning I spent sort of binge watching church services. I had a particular one in mind for River Falls at 10:30 a.m., but got distracted multiple times along the way. Waking up early I wondered about sunrise services. There was a service going on with a satisfying amount of pageantry where I originally thought good job on the precautions and social distancing but then cringed several times later. There was a fun brief video of a sunrise complete with shouts of "risen indeed." Also, a pastor talking from her office about "ugly crying" earlier in the week and then reading the scripture about the angel by the tomb with garments as "white as snow."
I happened upon a service in Woodbury, perhaps partly because the church name was the same as one in Ann Arbor where a dear friend had been one of the women doing the "Last Words." The young woman singing a solo enthralled me. She must've had some lessons. Crystal clear high notes. Pretty dress. Reminded me of one Mom had made for me, not the one with the white cuffs that had formerly been the top of knee-high socks. But a more wispy one, white with big lavender flowers. Our young vocalist had a neat part in her curled hair, lipstick to match pinker parts of the flowers and performed a somehow vastly reassuring little nod at the end.
Then the snow picked up. I looked out the window as people gathered sparsely around the block to listened to the planned bell ringing at 10 a.m. The woman with the big tassel on her knit cap waved to the younger fellow in the dapper white hat. Time stood still for a moment after the 10 minutes of church bells before the first resounding honk of a car horn. A brief cacophony ensued. People dispersed with a spring in their step.
I'd started streaming the River Falls service's opening music, glanced down at the now familiar face of another fine vocalist accompanying herself at the keyboards to see a pronounced white squiggly line on the screen, reminded me of an etch-a-sketch only smoother curves to the line. It drew out a crown of thorns and three crosses and a rock rolled away from a round cave.
Wanting to circle back to the soloist who could "see God" I couldn't see her, until I realized I had to click on a different link now, more of a "demand" thing. Whew, she's still there. And this time I actually chuckled at the cameo of the pastor in his robe and floppy slippers before the start of this whole "worship thing."