This Sunday morning worship service brought to you by …

A kick-ass hill series.

I’m a good little Catholic girl. I was baptized in the church where my parents got hitched. I spent eight years in Catholic school and attended Mass every Sunday until I was 18, whether I needed it or not. Yet, somehow, my run through the hills this morning, punctuated by beautiful butterflies, glimpses of the sparkling Spokane river, sun-drunk varmints and chatty birds brought me closer to God than I think I’ve ever been. And it was good.

I’d appreciate if you didn’t mention this spiritual experience to my Granny. She’s saying enough rosaries for me already. If she hears I have trouble separating Mother Nature from the Almighty Father she’ll probably have me exorcised.