The clock keeps ticking. The sun comes up and goes down. The rhythm of the day marches on. Busyness is the metronome. Many days I wonder if people take time to stop and take notice of the fog that has rolled in. Some days its thick blanketing veils the beauty of the view and distorts what my senses capture. There is a dullness in the atmosphere. Noise is muffled. Colors are hazed. Reality is altered.

Suffering creeps in like fog. It envelops everything around us. Everything around it is swallowed up. It can feel eerie, mysterious, isolating.

Fog is often an unexpected visitor with no plans to anchor with permanent residency. It is rarely a welcomed guest.

Fog serves a purpose. It slows the harried pace. Its misty presence brings an inherent cleansing. We find ourselves longing for a glimpse of the sun’s warm embrace. We anticipate the day when the cloud cover lifts and the brilliance is restored.

While we wait, we wrestle with all the emotions of the change that the fog has ushered in. There is a weight upon our chest and a heaviness in our gait. On these days, activity is not desired. Movement is laboring.

Underneath the dark sheath, there is a remarkable panorama wait to bursting forth. We store our confidence in knowing that fog with transition and life will recommence with a restored freshness. Gratitude will have heightened dimension. The viewpoint will hold greater significance.

Hang in there, friends, radiance is around the corner ❤