Pausing at the view distorted by suppressed clouds hovering low to the ground, I begin to wonder how it came to be. Moving from open country to a mountain side, fog seemed out of place; tucking itself so tightly to homes and busy streets. I tried to remember what causes this part of weather--how does He make fog--quickly moving along to the next blind. Yet through the fog still light.
I turn to find my baby pointing to the snow globe of Jesus. Wanting the music played and the star re lit, I smile and crank the knob. Grinning with anticipation I bend down to hold her high. The melody of Silent Night begins our morning, with the fog outside.
The night prior I washed the dishes while the hours became darker. Alone in a home full of dreams being had in bedrooms down the hall, I let the hot water clean. Looking down the road at the homes lit with lights, I reflected on conversations with my mom about what Christmas now looks like.
The magical tune runs out and she motions for more--more of Jesus, absolutely; it is all I know how to give. His light is the only sure thing in these moments. In this season.
...“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
Looking back through the window the fog thickens around the curves, blurring the trees. But still light. A car passes, creeping through the damp obstacle and slowly turning away.
Buying gifts for others who have enough becomes my fog. Decorating a tree makes it thicker. Mistletoe, Rudolph and flashing lights are blurred and can not be seen. The music stops and I turn to Jesus--don't focus on the fog, the things that don't make sense--just Jesus; the Light in the fog.
...send me your light and your faithful care, let them lead me. Lead me through the fog.