I should be grateful for the warmer weather we’ve enjoyed for the last week and a half. It’s an improvement over the deep freeze we endured from Christmas and well into 2010. But Midwesterners have their weather equations down cold, including this one:
A winter thaw + thick snow cover = fog
Ever since the temperature inched above freezing, it’s been foggy. For days now the fog has been a real wet blanket – chilly, depressing, gloomy, obscuring the sun, hiding the blue sky.
But it’s more than that for a friend of mine. Whenever we get a stretch of foggy winter days, she comes to mind. Her husband and father-in-law died in small plane crash on a foggy February day about ten years ago. She was left to raise her two sweet daughters, one of whom was my daughter’s classmate and friend, by herself.
I thought of her Saturday while I walked in the fog. Quiet surrounded me while I took pictures of the hoarfrost on tree branches and fence wires. But inside I was restless, worried about my friend. If the fog depresses me, what does it do to her? Does it bring back painful memories? Did she dream about the accident last night? Is she reliving the events of that awful, awful day this morning?
Without warning, in the midst of my worries, the sun broke through the gray shroud. The fog lifted and sunlight gleamed on branches thick with frost, white and lovely against a brilliant blue sky. I blinked back tears and soaked it in, the assurance of beauty that exists beyond what my eyes can see.
My restlessness evaporated and my spirit grew calm. As I walked home, one last question formed upon my lips: Would you let my friend sees your beauty beyond the fog today, Lord? Would you show her you are there?
