We Minnesotans are known for many things. Unfortunately for us, we’re known these days for our heavy presence in national news. We also talk about the weather a lot, which is something I’d rather cover today.
My sister, Coco, in Wisconsin wrote about the weather two days ago in her weekly publication, The Connector, a newsy email update to her family and other subscribers who want in on her life’s adventures. Here’s her cozy account of our current weather:
It feels like spring. There was a long row of seed packets on display at Walmart today. And when I hopped out of the car to shut the coop on my way home tonight, my boots stuck firmly in mud, which I wasn’t expecting in the dark. It was 46 degrees today, but next Tuesday is supposed to hit -11. Just a little reminder that spring is NOT just around the corner. How often I think of Henry from Kenya. When we visited him, he teased us about always talking about the temperature and checking our phones to see what it was. “It’s always 80 degrees. There’s no need to keep checking,” he told us. Then he came here to visit one November. Besides being shocked that there weren’t people everywhere outside and that you could order coffee by talking to a disembodied voice in a drive-thru and that bodies of water actually freeze to the point you can walk on them, he grew to fully understand why we daily checked the weather. We live in a land of extremes, and weather dictates a lot of what we do—what we wear, if it’s safe to drive, and if we need mud boots when we shut the coop. We just get so used to how to manage the changing temps that we don’t think about sharing the info with our African visitors. Things like... if your feet are warm, it will help your whole body feel warmer. (That’s why we don’t wear flip flops in the winter. I had to explain this recently.) And sweaters and hoodies are usually worn for warmth inside, while jackets and coats are generally worn outside. (This doesn’t seem to be readily apparent to those visiting. Which is fine. We’re just not used to seeing jackets inside as everyday apparel.) It all keeps life fresh and interesting.
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We could all use fresh and interesting lives—and I’ll add land-healing times—right about now.
If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.
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*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka and their husbands (present and future), Snipp, Snapp, and Snurr.