The Stirring When Fog Lifts

bridge disappeared in fog

Are you in a fog? It’s 9 months now for me.

ON MY DAY OFF, I bring my laptop to the screenporch to finish a letter. From here I’ll be able to see the repairman’s truck when he arrives. What’s the point of tucking myself away back in the far reaches of the house when I’m expecting someone, then running down the hallway every few minutes to see if he’s here?

The morning fog keeps me company and we are old friends.

I prefer a window seat when flying, to view ribbons of fog that lie in river valleys.

Since moving here by a river 18 years ago, though, I see fog from the other side, from underneath. It’s part of our (almost) daily existence, the fog rising most mornings and presenting itself to us for observation and study, then hurrying on. It is just part of our lives.

* * *

I COME TO THE PORCH to write. It’s warm and humid, even at 6:30 AM. I don’t need a sweater. Partway into my letter, though, I feel a sudden chill. Then another. I look up. The leaves that just a minute ago hung still in midair are moving. And the grass waves slightly.

It is always this way.

When the fog lifts, there is a stirring that seems to come from nowhere and go nowhere and yet, something big is happening. Reminds me of John 3:8.

The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.

I try to tough it out, wait for the chill to pass, but in the end I go get the sweater. Sometimes it feels like we are in a wrestling match – me, to tough it out, and it, to keep making me uncomfortable until I do something about it.

Fog can be dangerous and scary. I don’t like to travel in it anymore than anyone else, but there is this other thing about it. There is this stirring that is not to be missed. It happens every time. The fog always eventually lifts, and I don’t like to miss that moment.

My fog, by the way, is lifting.

Belinda writes about fog today and her words prompted me. Thanks, Belinda.

About Marilyn

Reading, thinking, listening, writing and talking about faith, creativity, ESL for refugees, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. Cheez-it fan. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. Thank you so much for reading.
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5 Responses to The Stirring When Fog Lifts

  1. karenrreed says:

    You have, in this post, put beautiful language to the wordless experience of my quiet time this morning. The words bring affirmation and clarification. Thank you!


  2. Beth Havey says:

    So glad that the fog is lifting. I’ve been there. Beth


  3. juliana says:

    I find the 9 month mark wonderful – the gestation of a new life…a lifting of the fog for you and the birthing of a new life that looks different – I have no doubt that the last 9 months have been used by God to mold you…and I’m glad that you are emerging again.


  4. Belinda says:

    Dear Marilyn, thank you for your note about my own foggy post. Fog is cocoon-like isn’t it? I’m glad that you, dear butterfly, are about to emerge from yours and unfurl your beautiful wings!


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