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Faith Amidst the Fog

The narrator recalls a morning years ago when she watched fog envelop her apartment building and the nearby Trinity Baptist church steeple from her bedroom window. As the fog obscured her view of the steeple, she felt lost and smothered. During her drive to work, she continued thinking about the experience and prayed for understanding. She had an epiphany in the school parking lot that her faith, like the steeple, remained secure even when she couldn't see it through the fog. She reflects years later on the lesson that fog may cloud one's vision but faith remains steady.

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193 views3 pages

Faith Amidst the Fog

The narrator recalls a morning years ago when she watched fog envelop her apartment building and the nearby Trinity Baptist church steeple from her bedroom window. As the fog obscured her view of the steeple, she felt lost and smothered. During her drive to work, she continued thinking about the experience and prayed for understanding. She had an epiphany in the school parking lot that her faith, like the steeple, remained secure even when she couldn't see it through the fog. She reflects years later on the lesson that fog may cloud one's vision but faith remains steady.

Uploaded by

JoyceWilliamsAuthor
Copyright
© Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd

The

Fog Lifts
By Joyce Williams

Silent as the stars appear, the fog moved insurrounding my small grey patio home. I watched the white fluff obliterate red velvet amaryllis, pink pots of begonias and mounds of asparagus fern. My mind drifted back to another morning when fog enveloped the quadraplex where I lived near downtown San Antonio. At that time, I was employed as a school administrator. I was following my usual morning routine. Reluctantly, I crawled out of bed when the alarm sounded at 5:40 a.m. and my day began. My upstairs bedroom window was a perfect frame for the slender steeple of Trinity Baptist church. Spotlights penetrated the night sky. As I watched, shivering I wished for a heavier nightgown, but refused to go to the closet for my robe. I stared, deep in thought, recalling the schedule for the day ahead. As I meditated, the time clock at the church clicked off and the illuminated steeple disappeared. I moved away. Dressing was automatic. I applied my make up with quick strokes, and then moved from the dressing table back to the window. At the base of the steeple a pink glow was creeping into the eastern sky. I watched it come alive. Moment by moment, inch by inch, the outline of the steeple became distinct. In recent months San Antonio had been plagued with multiple days of fogmore than I ever remembered. Some mornings my window framed only haze, mist and fluffy white puffs. This morning, the steeple has sharp, distinct outlines, but as I watched, a mist began rolling toward me. In seconds the steeple was completely obscured by fog. I was fascinated couldnt move. Soon the fog completely engulfed my building. I had the sensation of being smothered-- lost in the mist! A quick look at my watch told me I needed to move or I would be late for school. I collected my purse and briefcase and

headed for the garage. But the smothered feel stayed with me. I headed to my car and moved into a stream of traffic, stopped for a red light, then was able to increase my speed. I traveled the same route to school for almost twenty years so driving was somewhat automatic and I continued to ponder my early morning experience. In my minds eye I could reconstruct the steeple, I knew it well. Within minutes I arrived at school, pulled into my parking space and dropped my head. Show me, Lord. Teach me! Help me understand. With head bowed and eyes closed, I thought about the steepleits brilliance in the spotlights; glorious in the pink eastern sky; or slipping into total darkness. Then I knew! The steeple was solidsecurean anchor, even if I could not see it. Silently, I prayed. Thank you, Lord, for your presence --for the ability to walk by faith, --not by sight --for the assurance that the sun will rise again and silhouette the steeple --for the hope that comes with each new day. Ten years later, I am gone from my treetop apartment. Still, I think of the familiar church and reflect on that morning so long ago when the fog enveloped me. I have pondered the experience often. Now, the lesson is clear. I must hold fast to my faithfaith that although fog may cloud my visionthe steeple remains.

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