As a haze of liquid air descends on us on days like these, slightly warmer and slightly damper after the cold, it's easy to curse fog. Damp, dismal, obscuring sight-lines and important astronomical observances. Where is the Moon? Where are Mars and Saturn? Somewhere behind the haze. And the sun? What's that when it's at home?
And yet fog brings its blessings too. Softening outlines, blurring ugly buildings, sometimes gently lifting in the early morning sun to reveal new aspects of familiar objects.
In many respects, fog is a metaphor for the Beaker Life. Stumbling through a blurry landscape, trying to make sense of it all, occasionally getting flashes of inspiration, misting-up when overcome by the sheer emotionalness of it all... it's amazing, actually, how much like fog our lives can be.
Why not slow down - whether your fog is real or metaphorical today - slow down and consider where you are, where you're going, and whether that clear highway you thought you were on is actually a country lane leading down to an unguarded quay on a lake? See the beauty of the water droplets on a spider's web. And give a moment's thankfulness for fog.
A day watching cricket at Old Trafford is a metaphor for a Methodist Minister's life: sun (joy), intense sun (you get burnt), freezing cold (you made a mild suggestion that perhaps we might replace the organ/pews at some point in the next millenia), horizontal rain (ditto and you have to chair a property committee with the organist present), snow (ditto plus you then have a coffee morning with the same people: weak coffee, green cups etc).
ReplyDeleteAnd finally warm (it's ok- God has called you to this. He is with you).
Thanks Graham. And the other similarity is that after you finally get comfortable, you find it's time to go somewhere else.
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