By Kathy Deters
I have a confession to make: I haven’t been to church since
Christmas Eve.
Like most of the Midwest, we got socked by a nasty cold
virus that took us down, systematically, one by one…coughs, fevers, ear
infections, followed by another round of coughs, fevers and ear infections. For
weeks it dragged on, our house a veritable symphony of coughing at night and lifeless
activity as we struggled through the daytime hours. As it passed through each
family member one by one, then turned around and knocked us all down again, my
family resembled extras from a bad zombie flick.
Finally, after more than a month of antibiotics, cough
medicines, ear drops and doctor’s appointments, we agreed over Saturday dinner
that we were, without a doubt, well enough to return to church. And then we
woke up today to find four inches of freshly fallen, untouched snow on our
street.
And like a zombie movie, we wondered if the snowpacalypse
was as bad outside our subdivision as it was within. Had the highways between
St. Charles County and St. Louis County been plowed? Had the bridge over the
Missouri River been treated? Were cars slipping and sliding willy and nilly in
Chesterfield? And so we resigned to miss church…again.
As we sit snowed in, I lament that I won’t get to enjoy the
choir’s music, that I won’t hear the pastor’s message (though this is now available
on the Discover St. Mark website), that I won’t have the opportunity to visit
with dear friends (though it’s nice to be able to stay connected with many of
them over Facebook). But mostly I regret that my kids are missing this
important time at church.