The warm air rolled in over the cold ground and snow, settling into a dense fog that waited for us in early morning. We hoped it would lift by mid-morning, that chilling gray disappearing into the brilliance of a sunny day. That was what we hoped.
What happened was that it hung around all through the morning, through the lunch hour and through early afternoon, then on to mid-afternoon. About that time, I needed to communicate via e-mail with one of our regional coordinators over at Marysville, Kansas.
I know that memory serves me correctly on one point about Marysville: it is home to the regionally famed black squirrels. Not dark brown, mind you, black. If memory serves me correctly on another point, Marysville is about seventy miles west of Highland, right on US 36 Highway.
Thus it was as I glanced out the window again long enough to confirm that we were still locked in under the dense fog, I was a bit surprised by Sara’s concluding enthusiasm: "Hope you are enjoying the beautiful sunshine."
I am well familiar with some of the fickle follies of nature. I’ve seen downpours soaking one side of the interstate while the opposite side is dry. I’ve heard of Saint Joseph getting an inch of snow while south Kansas City gets a foot or more. But yesterday, well, it was more like "A Rainy Night in Georgia;" I thought it must be foggy all over the world. Or at least as far west as Marysville.
They, in fact, had been enjoying a glorious day, a notion of which we gained but briefly when the fog finally lifted around 4:30 in the afternoon.
I often forget, in my moments of enthusiasm and in my days in the dumps, that not everyone around me is experiencing the same weather that I am. It is good, then, to be glad when others are glad and to embrace others’ sorrows as well. We ought to give thanks that the sun is shining elsewhere and remember that their prayers help lift us through the fog.