Backstory
It’s a foggy morning here in the Shenandoah Valley. The vapor moves slowly along; hiding from view, everything over 10 feet away. It’s early morning and very quiet. What a wonderful time for wondering, daydreaming, allowing random thoughts to flutter across the busy landscape of my mind and take their own detours, left and right.
I sat here for quite a while, doing just that. Torn between getting the words down on paper – or just letting them glide in and out, unattended and undirected.
Most of the thoughts were quite elusive. I felt naughty, allowing them to swirl around so. I am usually disciplined about getting them down on paper. But they came and went like dry fallen leaves, on the rush of a nor-easter.
It took major concentration to finally come down and reconnect with reality. Once I did, this is the episode that came “Out of the Fog.”
Out of the Fog
The mountains have disappeared. Often, they simply turn blue with the weather. Today, they are invisible; masked by the early morning fog.
I feel alone in this temporary setting, shielded from anything that is not in my heart and mind this morning. I have the freedom to think any kind of thoughts.
I can worry about the world . . . or think happy thoughts. I can review my responsibilities . . . pay my bills . . . visit FaceBook friends.
Instead, I think I will sit here quietly. Just you and me. I’ll think about how grateful I am that you stop in – some, once in a while, some, every Sunday.
I love to share with you thoughts and stories and laughs. I like to pass along reminders of the good things we have to hold on to. Often reminders about being thankful, and expressing that thanks. Reminders about the love that surrounds you. Maybe a little nudge about reaching out or speaking up – or keeping quiet.
So many thoughts to share . . . So many stories to tell.
Thank you for spending these 90 seconds with me. Even if your day starts with fog, like mine did, may it end, with hope.
P.S.
Now that we are out of lock-down and into more pre-pandemic rhythm, don’t become so caught up with “hurry” that you forget time out. Continue to leave space for contemplation. And above all, be kind.
[Show #622]
Reading your beautiful words is a lovely way to lift my own fog. But I also concur with the idea that resting in the fog is quite therapeutic!
Mountains look dreamy and mysterious, holding secrets for centuries. I contemplate the stories they contain from ordinary folks caught up in the swirl of history.
This story rests on such a beautiful passage…Even if your day starts with fog, like mine did, may it end with hope.
Amen!
Your prayers are beautiful. Your mommy would be pleased.
Thank you Annette. You message provides hope!
So glad every time you stop by, Debra.
Every Sunday the fog is lifted after spending 90 seconds with you Annette. Your gift of words is the most inspiring way to start my week. ❤️❤️
You encouraging words keep sending me back to my fountain pen. (They are making a come-back, you know.)
I call it my quiet time with God and it is every morning no matter the weather or circumstances!!
You are living life as He intended, Dan. No wonder you were blessed with the person He sent you to.
I am sitting here doing the same thing you are doing, just letting random thoughts float by, thoughts of the past 70 years, thoughts of this cold morning, and thoughts of the future. I look forward to these early morning sessions with just me and my thoughts. Good to know there are others doing the same thing. Maybe kindred spirits.
Thanks for this post, I look forward to your thoughts, they are so often like mine.