Growing up, we were part of a church where my family was fairly involved, especially in my parent’s Sunday school class. The class comprised couples, many of whom had kids me and my sister’s age. During the winter holidays, one Sunday morning, the class would skip church for what they called “a winter picnic.”  As it sounds, we ate outside on picnic tables in a local park, no matter the weather. The adults worked hard, cooking eggs, bacon, sausages, and pancakes. Over a campfire, they brewed hot coffee and hot chocolate while we kids worked hard sledding and having snowball fights. Before we sat down to eat, someone would share a short Bible reading and pray a long prayer thanking God for the food, which made us kids antsy to eat. At times, the weather would be brutal with heavy snow and wind, but somehow, no one minded because gobbling down the heavy breakfast warmed us.