Faith for a foggy day
The early morning fog fell like a sheer veil over the trees in the park behind my home. I stared at them from my bathroom window, still groggy with sleep. The fog’s mystical, moist presence heralded in the first day of autumn and came as a gentle reminder that change is on the way. Foggy days renew faith.
When I looked out of my bedroom window, the view of the fog was different. Not quite as hazy, not so misty. Not as much cloud making contact with the asphalt in front of the house as there was with cloud making contact with the grass in back of the house.
As I meditated in the morning stillness, the words to Carl Sandburg’s poem, Fog, came to mind. It goes:
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
Over the harbor and city
On silent haunches
And then moves on.
The fog didn’t stay long. It gave way to a partly sunny morning filled with promise.
As much as I enjoy sitting safely in the comfort of my home and watching the fog, I enjoy even more a clear day. Today reminded me of times when my faith was shrouded in fog, when family strife or workplace disappointments clouded my day, when lost opportunities and failed attempts left me in a haze. When circumstances and complexities fell like a curtain on my best efforts.
And thankfully, those thoughts didn’t linger. They moved on. I’ve learned over the years to change my perspective when I find myself looking backward. My faith gives me a forward viewpoint. I cannot see the future but I know a God who can and that makes waking up to foggy days a blessing waiting to unfold.
What’s your favorite kind of day and why?
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