As I awakened on this 72 degree Christmas morning, I was excited to go to the beach to watch the sunrise. When I arrived, fog as thick as gelatin obscured any view of the sun. I was disappointed and I began reflecting on the past year of losses: love lost, love found, and love lost again; saying goodbye to my four legged angels; and mourning the lost connection with my sister which does not get easier over time. I could have turned around and returned home, but I continued walking because that is what I do. My love of the ocean runs much deeper than loving her only when she is pretty.

I trudged forward in the soft sand, loosened by high tide, and I came across a flock of gulls similar to the ones I saw on a sunny day only weeks ago. They were just as beautiful as they were that day and they seemed unaffected by the mist. I then came upon a man and his young daughter still clad in her Christmas pajamas. We exchanged “Merry Christmases” and talked about the fog. This young girl in the wisdom of her youth said “Maybe fog is a close as we get to snow!” No wiser words were spoken to me this morning.

I am reminded that just beyond the cloud of losses, the sun is shining, the seagulls are flying, and the ocean continues its march toward shore. I know these things are true, not because I see them this morning, but because they continue to show up when the fog lifts. I need only wait. It’s called faith. On mornings like this maybe the fog is as close as we get to God and that is close enough.

I am grateful for all those whose lives intersected with mine this past year. You have brought more joy into my life than I thought possible. I am so blessed! Merry Christmas or happy whatever holiday gives you hope this morning. I love you all.

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