Pam Pointer

IN THE FOG

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Is it silly to say that I feel more alive on autumn mornings than at other times of the year? What is it about autumn that causes such vibrancy? The brilliant saturated colours of autumn? The juxtaposition of orange and blue? The crisp cold frosty air of this very morning when sun and moon appeared at opposite ends of the sky, round and large and dominating the dome above a wakening earth? Possibly… Probably… But the feeling is there too when it’s foggy.

“Go out and take pictures in the fog,” said my tutor on a photographic course. Daft idea, I thought, but no – it turned out to be an exercise in observation, contemplation, quietness, and even cosiness. The enveloping greyness wasn’t oppressive or sinister, just another facet of weather to marvel at. Think of the objects that are enhanced by fog: spiders’ webs, water droplets suspended from leaves, monochromatic images of old-fashioned lamp-posts, cathedrals, seaside piers…

Metaphorical fog in life can make us wonder whether life will ever become bright again. Burdens, anxiety, bewilderment can oppress the shrouded soul, bruised body or numbed mind. But, just as there is an invisible sun in the silence of the fog, so too – in the screaming silence of our personal fogs – there is an invisible yet all-seeing and compassionate God who offers his companionship, not necessarily to alleviate the fog but to be in it with us.

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