My friend’s Facebook status this morning read, “Wishing this fog would last all day. There’s something magical about not being able to see what will happen next.”

Magical… yes.


Her status led me to remembering a weekend I spent in Glasgow, Scotland, while serving in Leeds for a year.  I remember being captivated by the depth of the fog outside of my bedroom window. I remember walking downstairs for breakfast to find out what our plans were for the day, only to learn we were going to travel behind the fog to the mysterious mountains it was covering.

My favorite thing about my mornings in Scotland that weekend was the fog. The fog reminded me of other mysteries great and small that were apart of life for me. 

The thick fog and knowing (though not being able to see it) that behind it were amazing mountains, waterfalls, sunshine and color.  Though I could not see the life behind the fog, nor had I seen it before, I knew my friends were pointing to something real.  The showed me pictures, shared stories about their last drive in the Glasgow moutains, and tell me all about how much I was going to love the little pub we would dine at for lunch.

Once we drove through the fog, not only was a blown away by the beauty and greatness of the Scotland hills, but we even saw a rainbow.


It was enchanting.

It was magical.