It’d been foggy all day on the Delmarva (Delaware/Maryland/Virginia, to the uninitiated) peninsula. It was a minor nuisance while we were shopping at the Rehoboth Beach outlets, and made the driving a bit difficult but not dangerous as we made our way to low-lying Grasonville, Maryland, just a bit east of the awesome Chesapeake Bay Bridge.
We’d paid extra to be on the water side of the facility, and when I looked out the window 
on Saturday morning, there was no bay to be seen… just a gazebo two stories below, patches of the Kent Narrows grasslands, and shapes of what appeared to be boats in a sales yard or dock. The fog-enshrouded scene wasn’t what I’d expected when I booked the room, but it was lovely just the same, peaceful and ethereal, almost otherworldly.
On Sunday morning, the sun was sparkling, the sky and the water both brilliant blues and marvelous contrasts to the brown vegetation. The occasional bird flew by. Even through the motel window, you could see forever.
Parts of my life are in the fog right now. Maybe you’re in the same boat, if you’ll pardon the pun. In some cases, I’ve made decisions, but am delaying acting upon them… in others, my control is limited, and someone else will determine what happens next. My time in Grasonville reminded me that even time spent in the fog can be glorious if we appreciate it for what it is… and that eventually, the fog always lifts.
Great analogy, Mel. Yeah, I feel like I’m in a fog most of the time. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Sometimes I wonder if the fog won’t lift until we see Heaven.
Angie, love the part about feeling like we’re in a fog most of the time. I had never thought about it that way, that we are in perpetual fog until Heaven. Thanks for sharing that!