I love foggy mornings. It makes everything look new and mysterious. Driving into Clarkesville on Highway 115, often there is a mist hanging over the river, and the city outline is just beyond.
I always think of the poem “Fog” by Carl Sandburg.
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on
According to Wikipedia, “Fog is a complex atmospheric phenomenon. It is a visible mass consisting of cloud water droplets or ice crystals suspended in the air at or near the Earth’s surface. Fog can be considered a type of low-lying cloud and is heavily influenced by nearby bodies of water, topography, and wind conditions.”
On the Merriam-Webster site, the simple definition of fog is either “many small drops of water floating in the air about the ground, the sea, etc” or “a state of mental confusion.” Their full definition of the latter is “a state of confusion or 3 a : a state of confusion or bewilderment <spent the morning in a fog>b : something that confuses or obscures <hid behind a fog of rhetoric>”
When I see fog as an atmospheric condition, I think it is beautiful. When I feel fog as a state of confusion, I am exhausted. Some days I seem to be in a deep fog that will not lift. I am listless and tired and unproductive. At the end of those days, I am so frustrated with myself at not getting the work done as I should. Do you ever have those days?
Other times, it’s just a bit hazy and cloudy, and it’s annoying. I can’t seem to shake the funk. I can “fake it ‘til I make it” in most instances, but I wish for clearer vision.
I think Mom operates in a fog most days now. Sometimes there are moments of clarity. Today she asked me about my choir. I didn’t know if she was referencing church or Mountain Voices, but I told her about both. She laughed when I told her about this or that. It seemed as if she was truly connecting these abstract ideas with memories of folks we know. It was a very clear moment that I’m treasuring.
The apostle Paul talks about our dim perceptions in this world. In First Corinthians 13, Paul talks about love. You know that chapter – it’s the one read at weddings. I’ve thought of these verses many times during this season of our lives. “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things. Love never fails.” Those words are certainly a picture of the love Dad has given to Mom during these difficult days. Today, however, it’s verse 12 that is resonating: “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face.” We’re all in a fog this side of heaven, aren’t we? Nothing is clear while we are here.
That gives me great hope. Clarity is subjective in this world, but we’ll see clearly in heaven. No more dementia. No more brain fog. I can hardly wait!
