Laura Everett

I don’t want to do this, but I will. I have a gun. I’m sorry I took those things. I lost my job. Give me a break. I’m strung out on heroin. These are the prayers of the people.

Among the hearty New Englanders with whom I serve and pastor, there are a few souls who refuse to close church on account of bad weather, ever. The Lord God created shovels and road salt and boots and wool socks as sure signs of the Almighty’s intention that we go to church. Some of these pastors hold deep theological convictions that the people of God should gather for worship every Sunday in rain, snow, sleet, or hail. Others are just defiant Yankee curmudgeons who would rather be assigned to eternal damnation than admit defeat by a winter storm. Whatever the motivation, I love this stubborn streak within the church.