I went outside to get the paper, and watched the fog on the river. Only a small patch of it was present - just enough to cover the area between our house and the island. Just enough to envelop the flocks of Canadian geese that were making enough noise to make me wonder if they'd taken over the entire river. But I couldn't see - I could only hear them. And I wondered...did the presence of so many geese in one location cause that little bit of fog? Whatever caused it, they were as thoroughly hidden as if it were a moonless, cloudy night.
Later, as I was absorbed in morning devotions, I saw something stirring outside my window. I looked out to see thousands upon thousands of geese, abandoning the river and taking wing into the morning sun, just above that fog. The spectacle still fills my mind's eye - I can see the wheeling flocks, careening out of the fog and off to...who knows where?
On days when I cannot see - on days when things seem bleak and fogged in - I want to remember those geese. They may have created that fog - but they also had the capacity to rise above it, to wing their way to a place filled with sun. And as they moved from one place to another, they blessed me. Simply by being, they blessed me. May I remember, and learn to rise out of my own fogs, into the brightness that surrounds me, even when I haven't yet seen it. May I remember, and in that remembering, may I bless others.
