Brrr!

December in Big Sky Country means snow and chilly temps. I get that. Not much different than life back in HoosierLand, really. I like the snow, and I don't really mind the chill... to a point.

However, today we crossed the line between chilly and just plain cold. The temperature when I left the house this morning was -17°F (-27°C), and made it up to a high of about -6°F (-21°C) as I made my appointed rounds. Wind chill factors lowered those numbers another 10-15 degrees. What did this mean for the "wandering minstrel" priest?

• My utterly reliable car (aka "the VicarMobile") was not happy about starting. It did, each and every time; but it seemed to grumble whenever I turned the key in the ignition.

• Attendance was very sparse; a few of our most faithful parishioners don't budge (for health and safety reasons) when the weather gets cold, and others decided to follow their example.

• In the 90 minutes I was at St. Alban's, the water bottle I habitually carry in the car with me froze.

• The the blower on St. Paul's furnace (which roars like an airplane engine preparing for takeoff) did not shut off at any point during the service. We could have turned it off manually, but I did not want the few hardy souls there to turn into parishioner-cicles. Preaching and presiding required what my father calls STEEL MILL LUNGS.

• We celebrated the Eucharist in the parish hall at Our Saviour's because the church building would not warm up-- even the liquid wax in their new Advent candles froze solid.

The list of "Things They Never Covered in Seminary" added a new chapter today.