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The Intimacy and Expanse of Fog
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Written by Mitch Randall
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Tuesday, 19 January 2010
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 This morning, a dense fog covered our city. As I pulled out of the driveway to attend our men’s breakfast at Ozzie’s Diner, my headlights lit up the white mist moving eerily before me. Visibility was down to almost zero as I inched across town to the airport. Streetlights were visible, but only one or two at a time. Traffic lights and stop signs kept jumping out of the fog to surprise me, as I found myself more than once slamming on the breaks. Creeping along at a snail’s pace I began to sense an unusual feeling that I was alone, but lost within a larger reality. As you can imagine, my morning journey reminded of God.
Watching the fog roll over my headlights, my sense of loneliness gave
way to a sense of intimacy. The world around me had been reduced to
the small space, but a sacred space, with each moment revealing a
little more along the journey. My past was lost in the mist, as my
future opened before my eyes. In the sacred chasm of my present, there
was both a sense of intimacy and expanse. With a dome of fog
surrounding me, I felt the proximity of God but just beyond its walls I
knew there was a great expanse.
Indeed this morning, on my journey through the fog, I felt and knew God was near by and far away.
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Last Updated ( Tuesday, 19 January 2010 )
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