Travel conditions to and from our friend Henry's funeral yesterday were terrible. Heading to the Chicago suburbs on Friday in thick, deepening fog was slightly scarier than yesterday's return trip in heavy rain-turning-to-sleet. The funeral itself was a blessing, having been carefully planned with Henry's favorite scriptural passages and hymns.
Hymn #313 preceding the Gospel came from the 1940 Hymnal, chosen because Henry loved the line in the second verse about "dogs with friendly faces." The hymn made many of us grin. I was pleased to be asked to co-officiate, and had an excellent, experienced priest with whom to work. (Thanks, Lane.)
Having braved all of that weather, I was dismayed to awaken today to snow and ice. Part of the interstate west of here was shut down yesterday. The icy roads kept me from taking Noah to church in Iowa City. Instead, deciding it was wiser to be safe in town, I drove slowly and carefully to our home parish. The driveway (on a slope) is treacherous if it's icy. As I pulled in to park, going at about 2 mph, I slid on the ice right into the car of a parishioner -- while she watched from the sidewalk.
Her car has a small ding. She told me it wasn't my fault, since once you slide on the ice, you can't stop. But I do feel at fault, and last winter's serious accident on the interstate on black ice again reruns itself through my head. When we started to slide this morning, the black fear welled up all over again. Clearly, it's a setback. Now, I need to overcome it, rather than believing that I simply should have stayed under the covers in the first place.
During church I tried to rise above my frustration by calling to mind the dogs with friendly faces, but it didn't do the trick. Singing Christmas hymns with Noah at my side did cheer me up quite a lot, though. What a tenor! What a supportive presence!