The Ski Retreat won. And then it didn’t.
A big winter storm system came east across the midwest and blanketed our route from Chicago to south central Wisconsin with warnings of blowing snow and hazardous travel conditions. I read all the warnings and all the forecasts with my team of leaders, and then around noon I emailed the parents it was cancelled. Too risky to drive 20 teenagers through a winter storm, lofty theological sentiments about communion be damned.
Then I called the house rental, the van rental, and the ski resort and cancelled all our bookings. Even our Saturday night dinner at Upper Crust Pizzaria: cancelled.
There’s something simply doesn’t sit right about killing a ski weekend for . . . snow.
One thought on “Quitting The Ski Retreat”
Well, when you can’t get to the hills, you can’t ski. I do see the odd way it sits — rather like “I can’t swim, I’m too damp.” But I’m glad everybody’s safe. PS — How about a post about why your headlines have become numbers?