Speak Through the Earthquake, Wind and Fire

Long about now a few folks at St. B's (I continue to have a really hard time writing the term "St. Bart's": it somehow conjures up an incongruous mental image of a red-mustachioed gunslinging saint, sort of like Yosemite Sam with a halo) have been sitting down to a potluck dinner prior to the last Advent class which we've still not held due to various weather conditions.

I kept thinking of a hymn, but upon looking it up it's a bit unsettling --we've endured flooding, high winds and snow (even as I write my car is parked a ways down the hill because it just couldn't quite make it up to the house, even before the evening's freeze set in)-- but the hymn actually goes: "Speak Through the Earthquake, Wind and Fire / O, still small voice of calm!"

Uh oh. It's worrisome enough to be out in the Pacific Northwest's beautiful tall woods in late summer (the fire season) and late autumn (the windy season), but we're also living in earthquake country, where the dreaded Richter 9 earthquake is rather a bit overdue. Hopefully the Ash Wednesday quake a few years back helped forestalled that.

I still miss the Midwest (and its culture) sometimes. Mosquito springs, muggy summers, miserable February, and the occasional tornado watch. But Earthquake and Fire...? I'll take the others -- speak to me through the snow and sleet and wind (especially once I have a generator and only small harmless fruit trees around the house).

But for now I live in the land of "Earthquake, Wind and Fire" (and big trees and snow and desired change of job). I just need to learn to hear the "still small voice of calm" through it all.

So maybe you'll understand if someday a posting suddenly en