Seeing Through the Fog


I looked into the pea soup of fog out the kitchen door and snapped the photo. The weather seemed to capture the lost clarity of January: Haiti’s tragic earthquakes, people laid off work, hearts seemingly harden to God’s call, husbands and wives struggling with their wedding vows. After a  friend moved to Arizona, he found his SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) greatly relieved by the sunshine that blankets that state. Meanwhile, we in this area seem to live in the grey of winter.

Winter needs encouragement from sources outside the weather, or depression can steal in as quietly and pervasively as the fog. So how do we read — and live — beyond the written “moans” of Facebook and Twitter statuses? beyond the anguish of Haitian survivors’ images on CNN and Fox? beyond the possibilities of a lost home or marriage? So often, the perspective of hope, once infused into a situation, melts the fog. No, not instantly, but the murky clouds start to lift.

We watched victims of the earthquakes sing and praise God they were alive, recovery teams from a myriad of countries working tirelessly to free survivors buried in rubble for over a week; tired but smiling Haitian orphans arrive in Pittsburgh. With each individual found alive, each rescue worker offered water, or each piece of red tape cut so children could leave Haiti and be adopted by parents here in America, the fog lifted a bit. Even closer to home, we may observe a couple beginning to work on their marriage or extended family making provision for those without work or a place to live. The sun may only wink from behind the clouds breifly, but the fog dissipates a bit more. True hope lies in looking up and catching sight of the Son as the hope we need most. Perhaps the fog descended just so we would look up.

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