This one was inspired by the recent acquirement of a key to the cabinet from whence the heaters come forth from at church. I am involved in the set up for church, and it wasn't too cold, I mean, it's still only the beginning of autumn, but heat the hall we must on a day like this one when the world outside is eight degrees. One of the earlier sermons was about the glory of the church. That's why the vague reference to the amazing idea of the incarnation (and who can comprehend that?). I was going to add another section about how it was when the heater was turned on, but I decided against it, although it would make a nice contrast with the whole cold thing... heck this is a long explaining thing...

The Cold

The Frigid wind howled, with a chant of ten thousand soprano apparitions, their ethereal operatic, menacing in it's vociferousness. Powdered snow, blown to various degrees over the permafrost, swirling in seemingly lost purposelessness, provided a fitting accompaniment to the spooky sound.

a lone figure trudges, bent over, either from the extreme cold, or the long journey. As he nears the end of that sub Antarctic traverse, his mind is set on the next task, frozen like the bleak landscape, immovable in the resolve to accomplish the task he had been set. In the Distance, the wind blows across the plateau, smudging the horizon, blurring the definition between terra firma, and infinity beyond. Through the haze more figures are becoming visible, congregating together in the brotherhood of those who have been there and done that. It is nearly time to set up. Few words are exchanged, it is just enough that there is someone else in the world who understands, who cares enough to be there, to lend a hand at this momentous undertaking, the kind of which, though previously seen before, should never cease to amaze those with the profound clarity of thought to grasp the idea of such seeming unintelligibility.