xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' The Mid-Week Message: February 2011

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

The Great Cherokee Pancake Day Race



February 22, 2011

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

In my nearly four years as your pastor, I’ve performed a wedding in a refurbished barn, offered an invocation at a rodeo, and attended more than a handful of pork feeds. But years of seminary training could not have prepared me to write the following sentence:

It’s time once again for our annual Pancake Day Race.

I’ve come to appreciate the endearing quirkiness of Iowa folks. This is the land, after all, of towns like Riverside (“Future Birthplace of Capt. James T. Kirk), Dyersville (“Field of Dreams”), Le Mars (“Ice Cream Capital of the World”) and Ottumwa (home of the Video Game Hall of Fame). So it makes total sense to consider Cherokee among their ranks, as we prepare for our annual apron-clad extravaganza. At 5:30 on March 8, dozens of women dressed in aprons and kerchiefs will flip their pancakes and dash from City Hall up Piety Hill to the front doors of St. Paul’s, completing the 415-yard course distance that women in Olney, England have been running for over 500 years.

For more history on the legend of the pancake race, I thought maybe you’d enjoy the following rhyme I prepared that tells the story:


Let’s whisk off in time, and let’s be on our way
To a time long ago, to a land far away

Five centuries before, in 1455
We land in old England, before we were alive

We’re here in a humble old town called Olney
With cobblestone streets just outside Coventry

At the end of the street, with a door open wide,
Is a warm, simple house, so we all go inside

And there, in the kitchen, in a buzz and a swirl
Is a busy old woman, cooking quite a whirl

We ask her what’s happening, and why all the fuss,
And she talks up a storm without looking at us.

“I’m busy, you see, for tomorrow is Lent
And I have to make sure all this food is all spent

“No fat in our pantries, no lard in our house
It all must be gone so that we stay devout

“Are you going to throw it away?” We all ask?
For we never have heard of this fat-cleansing task.

“No, no,” she says now, she now grunts as she gruffs.
“We can’t waste all this food, we can’t waste all this stuff.”

“I’m cooking it up, all the milk and the butter.
All the eggs, and the flour, and even all the sugar,

“So’s not to waste any, I’m cooking a storm,
A tall stack of pancakes! So rich and so warm.

We are all quite hungry; the smell is so yummy!
We hope there’s enough to fill all of our tummies!

“Don’t worry, the woman says, “This stack will be tall.
I’m cooking enough to feed all of you all.”

Then suddenly, out of the blue, good and loud
We hear a shrill sound, of a bell clanging proud.

“Oh, dear!” says the woman, “Where did the time go?”
“I’m late for the Shrove Tuesday service! Oh, no!”

“The Shrove Tuesday what?” we say, all in a rush,
We sense in her panic, her face is all blush.

“It’s the service where we come confessing our sins
So that we can start Lent with a clean slate again.”

“But what do I do? Oh, no, look how I’m dressed!”
“I’m wearing my apron, I don’t look my best!”

“I’m covered with flour, and with eggs, and with butter,
“I don’t look too churchy, I look like a pauper.”

“And what of these pancakes? Oh, what will I do?
“I can’t let them burn, oh, that just wouldn’t do!”

Just then, she decides, there’s no time to get clean.
She takes off for church, just the way that she’s been.

All the grime of her work, and her imperfect flaws
She ran off to church just the way that she was.

No hiding or pretense, and no saintly veneer
No false churchy tone, and no plastic good cheer

She ran off to church with her tattered apron
While flipping her pancake, so that it wouldn’t burn.

We race along side her, she’s old, but she’s fast
415 yards later, and we’re about out of gas

But she gets there, in time for the priest to begin
This most sacred time, for us to confess sin.

We sit in the pew, and we look all around
At the women and men from this grand little town.

They’ve come to confess, but to hear some good news
Of one who draws near, to save me, to save you

And there, sitting next to us, make no mistake
Was our new England friend, and her perfect pancake

And so, long ago, in a town far away,
A woman marked Lent in her own special way.

By teaching us how we might all come to God
Just as we were, with no boasting out loud.

Not dressed in fine fabric, fragrant like a rose
Not fancy white linens, but with everyday clothes

Clothes that speak of our wrongs, and our past, and our sins,
And our yearning desire to begin clean again.

Clothes that prompt us to ask for God’s grace and God’s love
For forgiveness that only comes down from above.

When you go to your church over Lent’s forty days,
I hope that you just will not miss a Sunday

For this is a time for a great, brand new start
To create in you now a clean, brand new heart.

Just come as you are, with your apron and all
All the busyness, sadness, and hear now God’s call

To start a new journey to dark Calvary
A place where your sins will be nailed to a tree

And then, three days later, when you think all is lost,
When you think all your sins will remain on that cross,

We’ll join in great glory, and in triumph newborn
As we shout resurrection on a great Easter morn.

In the name of our God who created the Heavens
Who saved us, sustains us, we all say, Amen.


So, prepare your Lenten journey in a powerful way, by joining us for our annual Pancake Race. We invite women to register by filling out forms available at City Hall, KCHE, or at the church office. You can also register directly online at our website, www.pancakerace.com. The cost to run is $10, and we once again encourage teams to run together. Prizes will be awarded for best costume, best pancake flip, best team race, and, of course, to the winner (who gets a smooch from yours truly, “The Supervising Vicar.”)

Then, following the race, join us in the sanctuary for a Shrove Tuesday worship service, which will help prepare our hearts for the start of Lent. Then we’ll gather downstairs in the Fellowship Hall for a pancake supper, where we will receive a free will offering that will support the two local food pantries. To date, we have been able to contribute over $2,500 dollars to those ministries.

So practice your flipping, and see you at the finish line!

Magrey

The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
http://www.cherokeespumc.org




BESTSELLING AUTHOR AT MORNINGSIDE
Author A.J. Jacobs will present a lecture based on his best-selling book “The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible” at 7:30 p.m. Thursday, March 17, in the Yockey Family Community Room in Morningside College’s Olsen Student Center, 3609 Peters Ave. Jacobs is editor-at-large for Esquire magazine and author of three New York Times bestsellers, including “The Year of Living Biblically,” a chronicle of his yearlong effort to obey all the rules and guidelines he found in the Bible. In addition to his books, Jacobs has written for The New York Times, Entertainment Weekly and New York magazine. He also is a periodic commentator on National Public Radio.

Jacobs will be speaking as part of Morningside’s annual Goldstein Lecture, organized by Dr. Jessica deVega. The lecture is free and open to the public and is sponsored by the Department of Religious Studies at Morningside College, the Jewish Federation of Sioux City and Congregation Beth Shalom.

YOUTH AND FAMILY BOWLING NIGHT MARCH 6
All youth grades 7 – 12 are invited, along with their families, to Cherokee Bowl on Sunday night, March 6. The cost is $8 per person for unlimited bowling between 3:00-5:00, and the cost includes shoes. Desserts will be provided, and bring money for drinks. We’ll also be giving out the full spring schedule of youth activities.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Lessons from the Selfish Giant



February 15, 2011

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

This Sunday, our journey through the Beatitudes makes a stop at Matthew 5:9: “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” The verse suggests that it is easier to build bridges of understanding and acceptance when one strips away the trappings of adulthood: jaded skepticism, world-weary pessimism, and long memories of past betrayals and heartaches. For Jesus, there is an intrinsic connection between making peace and living with a child-like faith.

So, to explore the idea of peacemaking, I’ve turned to a children’s fable. A few days ago, I came across a short story written by literary giant Oscar Wilde. It’s titled The Selfish Giant, and is lesser known than The Importance of Being Ernest and A Picture of Dorian Gray. But this is a poignant tale that communicates the power and possibility of peace and reconciliation in child-like terms. Rather than summarize it for you, I thought I would print it in full. It’s long, but well worth the read:

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. "How happy we are here!" they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
"What are you doing here?" he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
"My own garden is my own garden," said the Giant; "any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself." So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED
He was a very selfish Giant.
The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. "How happy we were there," they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. "Spring has forgotten this garden," they cried, "so we will live here all the year round." The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. "This is a delightful spot," he said, "we must ask the Hail on a visit." So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.
"I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming," said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; "I hope there will be a change in the weather."
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. "He is too selfish," she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. "I believe the Spring has come at last," said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.
What did he see?
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. "Climb up! little boy," said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.
And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. "How selfish I have been!" he said; "now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever." He was really very sorry for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. "It is your garden now, little children," said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.
"But where is your little companion?" he said: "the boy I put into the tree." The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.
"We don't know," answered the children; "he has gone away."
"You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow," said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. "How I would like to see him!" he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. "I have many beautiful flowers," he said; "but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all."
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, "Who hath dared to wound thee?" For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.
"Who hath dared to wound thee?" cried the Giant; "tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him."
"Nay!" answered the child; "but these are the wounds of Love."
"Who art thou?" said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, "You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise."
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

THE END.

(From The Happy Prince and Other Tales (1888)) [1]


MAKING PEACE IS HARD WORK

Oscar Wilde depicts the little boy in the corner of the garden as a messianic figure, who appears momentarily to bring the Giant and the children together. He is raised on a tree and subsequently blemished with nail scars in his hands and feet, which he refers to as “the wounds of Love.”

That character also serves as an invitation for each of us to assume the role of risk-taker, in the sacrificial, hard work of making peace in our communities and throughout the world. Though Jesus fulfilled the primary messianic role in bridging humanity to God, he calls each of us to be peacemakers as well, and thus be called the children of God.

It is a lesson that ought to start young.

In Quito, Ecuador, a city replete with neighborhoods torn apart by gang warfare and violent crime, the Mennonite Church is using Wilde’s The Selfish Giant as a tool to inspire children to work for peace. Volunteers gather with children in the classroom and have them act out the final scene between the giant and the small boy. Then an adult asks them, “What is peace? Why is it important?” The kids’ responded:

“Peace is sharing with each other so there are no hard feelings or violence,” said 11-year-old Daniela Chicaiza.
“Peace is important because when there is peace it is beautiful,” said 7-year-old Steven Silva. “I can be calm. I can play.” [2]

The best news? Since the Mennonite church started the “El Inca Neighborhood Peace Project” in 2001, not a single child has joined a gang. “The workshops have helped unite the community in its responsibility to prevent children from joining gangs,” said Mennonite Pastor Patricia Uruena. “It is important because children learn Christian values and have changed their aggressive attitudes at home and at school.”

Yes, making peace is hard work. It takes commitment and perseverance through certain hardship. But for every follower of Jesus Christ, peacemaking is not optional. It is central to who we are as disciples, members of the body of Christ, and citizens of the kingdom. Join us this Sunday and be inspired to do this difficult work together. It’s all part of our sermon series on the Beatitudes called “More to Life: Successful Keys to Blessed Living.”

Peace,

Magrey

The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
http://www.cherokeespumc.org

[1] http://www.online-literature.com/wilde/180/
[2] http://www.mennoweekly.org/2011/1/24/children-learn-peace-beautiful/?page=1



PANCAKE RACE!
Attention, all apron-clad runners of Cherokee! It’s time for the third-annual Great Cherokee Pancake Race and Shrove Tuesday Service on Tuesday, March 8 at 5:30 pm. Registration forms and brochures are available in the church office, and are due by Friday, March 4 along with a $10 registration fee. More information is available at www.pancakerace.com. Let’s make it another great year of fun and fundraising for the two local food pantries!


BUILDING COMMITTEE UPDATE
The Capital Campaign Leadership Team had its final meeting last week with Kevin Gowdy, our campaign consultant, to discuss the next steps in our renovation project. The Building Committee will be meeting shortly to assess priorities given the results of the pledges. It will be working to put together its final recommendations which will be presented to the congregation at a charge conference in the near future. We look forward to moving ahead with some exciting plans this year.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Singing in Solidarity


February 8, 2011

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

No, there was no “wardrobe malfunction,” but Christina Aguilera’s rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” was another instance of a celebrity faux pas overshadowing the Super Bowl. Her complete deletion of one line (“Over the ramparts we watched”) and utter flubbing of another (“Twilight’s last reaming”?) became a hot topic of conversation among message boards, chat rooms, and sports talk radio.

Part of my morning ritual includes listening to the syndicated sports radio host Dan Patrick, who offered an interesting alternative to having celebrities sing our national anthem: invite the crowd to sing it together. It would be simple. Just have someone get the song started, then have everyone join in. Imagine the powerful visual drama, and audible solidarity, of 100,000 people standing and singing in full voice. If nothing else, you wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting the words, since there is natural encouragement with a crowd.

Earlier on Sunday, our confirmation kids took turns trying to say “The Apostles’ Creed” and “The Lord’s Prayer,” standard requirements for them to be confirmed in May. Some of them nailed both recitations on the first try. Others had more difficulty. One student in particular hit a road block every time, unable to remember the phrase “And forgive us our trespasses.” After numerous attempts, he said, “You know, it’s a lot easier to say this in church, when people are saying it with me.”

No kidding. And not only is it easier to remember the words of our faith when we are with others; it is also easier to live them out. We remember that the words of our creeds, prayers, and liturgies are not only powerful when they fly from our lips, but also when they sink into our souls. They submerge into our hearts to change our attitudes, filter into our minds to transform our perspectives, muscle into our hands to alter our behavior, and refocus our eyes, enabling us to see the kingdom of God around us. That kind of transformative power is best unleashed when in the company of shared community.

Will Willimon, Bishop of the North Alabama Conference, reflects on the power of the words of God to shape a community that is ready to receive them, recite them, and rehearse them:

The gospel doesn’t want to speak to the modern world. It wants to change it. God’s primary way of change is through words, by bringing a new world to speech. Thus, on Sunday mornings, when the congregation gathers, we speak about things that the world tends to avoid. We talk funny. We use peculiar speech. We tell stories and lure people into a different citizenship. We reconfigure their notions of what is going on in the world. Thus, the people emerge from church, their eyes blinking in the sunlight. On Sundays when it’s good, they emerge, not simply into the world at half past noon, but into a world where Jesus Christ is Lord, where the kingdom of God is beginning to take form, and where their lives are given significance. (from “Good News in Exile”)

So, join us this Sunday. Not just out of rote habit or blind obligation, but out of a sense of anticipation. Let’s come expecting that the words of our faith will transform us, believing that it’s easier for that to happen when others are singing along.

Grace and Peace,

Magrey

The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
http://www.cherokeespumc.org



WORSHIP THIS SUNDAY
We continue in our sermon series “More to Life; Surprising Keys to Blessed Living” by looking at the beautitude “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” We’ll explore one of Matthew’s favorite phrases with a sermon titled, “Have mercy!”

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Blessings Below the Surface


February 1, 2011

Dear St. Paul’s Family,

A British couple named Rhodri and Angie Powell uncovered quite a surprise when they recently began some renovation on their house in Milverton, Somerset, England. As they began removing old wooden paneling, wallpaper, and plaster in their living room, they found what appeared to be eyes, staring back at them.

After peeling back more wall covering, they were shocked by their discovery: a 20 ft. high by 6 ft. wide mural of King Henry VIII, painted back in the 15th Century. Though the artist is unknown, experts believe this to be the only surviving mural ever painted of Henry. The only other mural painted of him would have been in the Palace of Whitehall, which burned down in the 16th Century.

The Powells were understandably stunned. They knew that their home had originally belonged to Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Taunton, who eventually became the Archbishop of Canterbury. It was in that position that he would assist Henry in securing a divorce from his wife Catherine of Aragon, which led to the founding of the Church of England. But the Powells never dreamed that they had such a treasure hiding behind within their old walls.

"When we saw the eyes appear out of the plaster it was a real moment," said Mrs. Powell. "It is a presence and you do feel there's just something there behind you looking over your shoulder. When people come in, he grabs the attention." [1]

It is with that same astonishment that the disciples must have reacted to the Sermon on the Mount. When Jesus delivered his most famous sermon, he began with a stunning opening, one that would peel back the fa├žade of those in need of some serious renovation. For those who were spiritually impoverished, mourning, hungry, persecuted, and rejected, Jesus’ message was clear: Take heart. You are blessed with an image of royalty, hidden just below the surface.

‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
‘Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
‘Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
‘Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Of course, by the end of the sermon, Jesus would get to meddling. He would talk about the serious sacrifices associated with following him: forgiving those that have wronged you, loving your enemies, forsaking earthly treasures, not judging others, and releasing anxiety. But before Jesus got to any tough talk, he began with pastoral promise, designed to lift the spirits of anyone who couldn’t see beneath the surface of their difficulty and pain.

The Sermon on the Mount was John Wesley’s favorite text to preach, dedicating more sermons to that passage (thirteen) than any other in the Bible. In his first sermon, Wesley depicts Jesus much as the Powells described their painting of Henry VII: as a presence that you feel, and grabs your attention.

Above all, with what amazing love does the Son of God here reveal his Father's will to man! He now addresses us with his still, small voice, -- "Blessed," or happy, "are the poor in spirit." As if he had said, "Who is he that lusteth to live, and would fain see good days? Behold, I show you the thing which your soul longeth for! See the way you have so long sought in vain; the way of pleasantness; the path to calm, joyous peace, to heaven below and heaven above!"
(“Upon Our Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, 1”)

Join us for the next five weeks as we explore the power and promise of these first twelve verses of Matthew 5, with a sermon series called, “More to Life: Surprising Keys to Blessed Living.”

February 6: “What Gives You Comfort?”
Matthew 5:1-4

February 13: “Have Mercy!”
Matthew 5:5-8

February 20: “Making Peace is Hard Work”
Matthew 5:9

February 27: “The Reward for Rejection”
Matthew 5:10-12

March 6: “A Future without Fear”
Matthew 17:1-9



Who knows? You may just discover that hidden treasure, right in your own life!

Grace, Peace, and Blessedness,

Magrey


The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
http://www.cherokeespumc.org

[1] To see pictures and video of this amazing discovery, visit: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-somerset-12306904



YOUTH SKI TRIP
Back by popular demand! The youth group will head back to Mt. Kato for another fun day of skiing on Saturday, February 19. We'll meet at the church at 6:45am and be back around 9:00pm. The cost will be determined by how much will be raised on February 6, but it should be about the same amount as last year. In addition, we need adults to serve as drivers and chaperones. Interested persons can contact John Chalstrom.

YOUTH FUNDRAISER
To raise funds for their ski trip, the youth will be sponsoring a Super Bowl snack sale on Sunday morning, February 6. People are needed to contributed snacks and treats to be sold that day. If interested, please contact Sue Parker.