Foggy Mornings

Last week, as I went to walk after school drop off, the park was covered in fog. The fog cover made everything look different. Although I had walked this same path many times before, I found myself looking down more often. I was watching my step because the fog was disorienting. It made me wonder if what I was seeing was in fact true and real.

As I rounded a bend, I thought I saw a snow-covered tree. I walked a bit further and saw it was a bird perched at the top of the tree. I had seen this same bird earlier at the shore of the pond and now here it was. I wondered if it too was having trouble seeing things clearly and wanted a better vantage point.

As our newest arrival learns nights from days. I feel as though I live in the liminal space between light and dark. What I thought was the best time to rest, the night, has become the clearest time to think and pray. In those moments in the middle of the night, we are not hurrying and rushing around. The only concern is nourishing this new life. The day naturally is a bit foggy because of those nighttime reflections, and yet there is a clarity that comes with the morning light about what really matters.

It turns out there’s so much that can be left to float away in the fog.