Soupy Fog. And Grace.

It an unusually gray day here in Moose Jaw; one of the few in which we probably won’t see even a sliver of sunshine. I went downtown earlier, dodging potholes like I was playing Mario Kart. One of the streets in our city, Coteau, was deemed to be the worst street in Saskatchewan last year. It’s the street we take to and from our house toward downtown. It’s bad now; it’ll get much worse.

I like to take a slightly longer route, one that takes me just outside city limits. I feel my body relax as I leave city streets behind in favour of the endless prairie and living sky. This morning the close peace of fog blanketed the fields and softened the view. I pulled over so I could capture an image for you.

I was thinking about a circle of love comprised of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit inviting me into the center and even more, welcoming me there. It’s not an original thought, I’ve been chewing on it since I heard it in something I listened to yesterday. It’s the welcoming that got to me.

I’ve believed in that love for a good many years. I experienced it, and wrote about that mysterious moment in The Presence of Absence. Today, there’s something about the welcoming that’s giving me cause to ponder and the soft, quiet, gentle gray of the day makes it a good one to do so in.

It never gets old, this grace of contemplating things that, at first glance, don’t seem like anything special but, when deep calls to deep and prompting me to pause and ponder, reveal something of the Divine.