Who doesn't love a sunny, clear morning in the middle of February? That's exactly the way our morning started. There is such hope and clarity in that type of morning. It holds the promise of a fruitful day, inviting us to embrace the day and move forward with power and purpose.
But unexpectedly, when we turned around, fog had moved in and the morning was shrouded in mist. Much as I welcomed the sunny day, the foggy one intrigued me. What's out there? What is just out of sight, but lurking all the same? Will I feel safe? Add to these thoughts the knowledge that when I venture out all my thoughts and emotions will feel palpable as moisture licks my exposed skin.
Sometimes I am tempted when writing to write the "sunny day" - I like the bright and cheerful in the world. But I am realizing that the foggy days are much more interesting, and then the eventual sunny day will be that much more appreciated when it does come.
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