…the sunrise has visited us from on high
To give light to those who sit in darkness
and in the shadow of death…
Luke 1:78,79
But no.
Today the Hickory Lane window view looked like this mid-morning, and by high noon, I still couldn’t see the mountains.
Not today.
Nevertheless, I knew the sunrise had happened, as it does each morning.
The mist did not prevent the sun’s rise; it simply hindered my direct view of it…
for the moment.
I spent no time fretting about whether or not the earth had stopped its rotation and we were stuck on the dark side, permanently caught in the shadow.
I knew.
The sun always rises.
This cloud of fog, resting all along the Valley, is back lit with a glow that has only one source.
Sunlight.
The farm at the top of the hill will appear out of the dimness,
and I will again wonder if I live in the Shire.
Already, I hear the clink of tiny icicles dropping to the roof.
The sun is at work,
behind the scenes,
behind the haze.
On mist shrouded days, when circumstances cloud my perspective,
and life seems all dimness and gloom,
I will remember:
…the sunrise has visited us from on high
To give light to those who sit in darkness
and in the shadow of death…
Luke 1:78,79
behind the scenes,
behind the haze.
I will watch for the Light.