Cheesehead in Paradise (I can never make the links work, just google her) talks about the last snow storm and decides snow is better than tornadoes and earthquakes. I am shocked by the loss of life in the tornadoes two days ago. I've never been afraid of storms, at least not since I was a little girl and my dad took me out on my grandmother's front porch to watch the grandeur of the storm raging at that time. The storm had my grandmother and aunt buried under their covers. Dad wanted to make sure I didn't grow up to be frightened of storms. But, Tuesday night I was concerned. The storm that came through in the early evening was strong. Winds blew, I could hear huge hailstones (though I didn't see any), lightening flashed. The sirens wailed. (I thought it was a home alarm going off when the electricity went off.) What really scared me though was the forecast for later that evening. The forecast was for even more severe weather. I tried to figure out if I should sleep on the floor of my closet (my basement is not a good place to sleep).
Ash Wednesday. We are dust, and to dust we will return. One parishioner is facing cancer and her husband has Parkinsons. I go for a biopsy on Monday, probably not cancer, but nonetheless. . . Life is short; we are mortal.