A Pea-Souper
Dad said it was a ‘pea-souper’.
I had gone to a friend’s house after school and was now walking up the hill to my home, a scarf tied over my mouth. The fog was thick, a dirty yellow in the lamplight. I felt as if I were in a dream. My familiar surroundings were unfamiliar. I could hear the hushed swish as cars passed by, but see only it’s fuzzy outline.
Surely I was at Dr. Scott’s house by now! I squinted into the murk. Was I lost? Impossible! My friend lived on my street, just several houses down the hill. But, this place I knew so well was transformed, surreal, and unrecognizable. With my fingertips, I brushed the hedges and traced the tops of walls that bordered the front gardens of each home. I wanted to be sure I was still on the sidewalk.
I told myself to keep believing I would see Dr. Scott’s surgery and then, after a few houses more, I would find my bungalow with the two bay windows. I imagined my footsteps scrunching on the cinder path at the side of the house, turning the handle on the back door and entering the cozy warmth of the kitchen. The lights would be lit, my mother would give me a hug and my father would be sitting in the armchair reading a book.
That was during the 1950’s in the suburbs of London, England.
Now I live in the Foothills of the Rockies. This morning, the sun has just risen above the roof tops. Light streams over the village and tips the Rocky Mountains in pink-gold. Jagged peaks stand in sharp relief against an azure sky. I take deep breaths of clean, pure air. It is good to be in Alberta, Canada.
However, my mind is in a fog, like the pea-soupers of my childhood. I see the mountains clearly defined on the far horizon, but the inside of me is a fog of self-doubt and anguish. Something has come into my life and I no longer know which way to go. I have lost my direction. I need a hedge to brush or a wall to trace with my fingertips.
Long ago Peter and some of his friends felt the same way. They felt as if they were in a dream. Their familiar surroundings were unfamiliar. They doubted the things they had been so sure about when Jesus was with them. But he had been brutally killed. Now they had lost their direction in life.
Peter and his friends reached for something familiar and went fishing on Lake Galilee. They yearned to grasp at something secure. They fished all night and caught nothing. They were lost in a fog of despondency.
Peering into the mist of dawn, Peter noticed someone standing on the shore, calling to them. “It is the Lord!” he shouted, then jumped into the shallow water and joined Him. Peter’s friends followed in their boat with a great catch of fish. They had breakfast together.
As the sun rose that morning, Peter’s clouded mind cleared. His purpose in life was restored.
Today, as I walk in the clear, clean Alberta air, my footsteps scrunch on the gravel path, I run my hand along the chain-link fence and realize that Jesus is alive and with me now, listening to my confused thoughts.
I realize I am not alone in my mind-fog. I am walking through it and Jesus is walking through it with me.
Lord, you are “my shepherd”…you “restore my soul…Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…you are with me”…you “comfort me”.
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