Morning after morning lately we wake up to fog. Humidity so thick that it clings to our windows and drops of moisture completely cloud of vision, obscuring all else. This reminds me of the saying about not being about to see the forest through the trees and how so often it is easy to lose sight of what is right in front of me. Some of the most precious things in my life, my husband and three daughters. Some days it is just too easy to be overcome by the mountains of laundry, dishes, groceries, bathing, folding, yardwork, vacuuming, dusting and even by my own droplets of sweat when I exercise to find moments of appreciation. It doesn't exactly help that lately the girls are more "can you, can I, can we, why, why, why, why" which doesn't allow for many moments of silence within which that appreciation can occur either.
So I found myself in church yesterday morning, alone with our three girls, trying to listen to the homily yet instead gazing outside at the fog. Yesterday's gospel reading was about Jesus telling Peter to walk out on the stormy ocean waters and how Peter's fear causes him to sink and cry out for help. I was reminded that a strong faith may not be one without fear but instead one that allows me to fear the storm's rage yet to keep on walking and know that I am not alone. A reminder that all storms come to an end, all fogs eventually lift and that I can't lose sight of hope because hope will always be there. A reminder that even though loss threatens to swallow me up at times, I still have much to be grateful for and to enjoy and if I focus on the fog I will miss all that dances within and around it.