It was a pretty dismal day for Sunday, winter's really well, um winterish. Gloomy and darkening. Also brooding and saturnine. That's what the thesaurus tells me, anyway. I walked into the spire after a week of this kind of winter spirits, and sat down. The passage was about Jesus, who went before us as a high priest, someone who could bridge the gap between us and God, who we can't reach. I looked out at the window, and it seemed like a picture lesson again. Whatever sun existed was a long way away, and all those dark clouds were hiding it. He said this hope that Jesus in fact reached God for us, that God who seems so far away, isn't anymore, and is our hope, like an anchor. Ships in storms apparently need anchors to keep them from going in circles and everyone in them from going mad. I thought GPS did that, but apparently even modern boats need anchors. And he said the hope of Jesus is that anchor in the storm that keeps us from losing hope and going mad in circles.

The rain didn't stop after church. Actually it came down even heavier. I said to Mary as I drove home (on the manual setting), you need an anchor. Can cars have anchors? Because this road's slippery when wet. But when we were halfway there it stopped for a moment, and I looked up and wondered if I was going to see that ray of light. So I wound down the window (now I was at the traffic light stopped) to get a better view. Then suddenly, and out of nowhere (well, the clouds, probably) it came down even harder. Torrential, the thesaurus tells me. Inundatory, even. So I wound up the window pretty quick and whacked on the wipers to full wipe, and wondered to myself if D-man could install some turbo-charged wipers or something, because Mary's little wipers were pretty useless. Mary said Livi are we almost home? I don't like this. I said hold on Mary, we're not far now. So I drove on, window wipers and lights on all the while, and eventually we reached The Complex, and pulled in pretty fast to the garage. I closed the door behind, and watched the water pool off Mary's bonnet and run down and out of the garage. I said well Mary that was getting hairy. She said hairy? I said hmm good point. I don't know why people say hairy. I've never had hairy rain before. That would be weird. And we sat down and listened to the rain. I said Mary, what is it about the storm you particularly hate? She said it's scary and slippery, and I can't see properly.

If I'm to tell you the truth, nothing today made me feel any better, it was just a hard and horrible day in general, both outside and in. Church didn't make me feel better, but it did remind me about something better, and maybe that's the point. That's something I've learned, that sailors can still feel dismal and battered by the storms, but know their boat isn't going anywhere, because they've got an anchor down.

- Livi.