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Early Monday morning – like 6.00 am early – I opened the door from our upstairs kitchen to the three-season porch, and was jolted by the change in my outside world! It was First Fog, the first pre-fall one and it was very eerie and dense. All I could make out of the usually diverse scenery from this upstairs porch was a blotchy tree, an undetailed roof across the street and … well, not much else. All color was muted into fuzzy gray, the mountains in the horizon were totally missing, and even the not-so-far away town lights were invisible. All the pleasant and even the mundane things were erased from my view, and the world out there was mysterious.

As I continued to stand and look, admire and ponder the effect, I began to focus on the street light directly across the street that stood between two blurry houses. Even that lamp struggled to press its warm yellow light much past the space between the buildings. It cast a small circle of yellow puddle light on the street. Fascinating. I enjoyed that soft light gently shining in the early dark fog.

You see, it was the morning that I had to leave my restful and satisfying summer break and return to the school I worked in. My mind had been casting about in so many focuses, preparing for a reluctant return, and trying to see it differently. And yet, here, in front of me was a soft reminder of one important focus I needed; the real Light of my Life, Jesus, who was with me there, and would be with me at my return to work. Outside, all the rush and clutter and details were blurred, and a light was shining gently on the road … making me think of my own path to walk on, one step at a time.

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