- Special Sections
- Public Notices
The pick-up truck was barreling straight towards me, oblivious to the fact that I was prayer-walking, blind to my existence, ignorant of my conversation with God. Glancing at his menacing headlights, I scooted across the road, tucking my tail like one of my Schnauzers when scared, and gasping for breath as I reached the entrance of Gethsemane Abby. I was grateful that I was secure on the other side of the road, a side where I longed for and found, time and time again: calm, peace, tranquility.
If you currently subscribe or have subscribed in the past to the Springfield Sun, then simply find your account number on your mailing label and enter it below.
Click the question mark below to see where your account ID appears on your mailing label.