It was a grey, misty morning last Sunday. And my mood was a bit like the day. I had a lot to take to the church - a dish for pot-luck, my Bible, binder and other paraphenalia for my Jr. High Sunday school class, and a few shoeboxes for the Samaritan's Purse Christmas Child project. So I was kind of growly because I had all this stuff to hawl in and my husband wasn't there to help. My youngest daughter, Meagan took one load but then disappeared, leaving me to make two more trips.
On the second trip I heard the familiar sound of geese, but the fog was so dense I couldn't see them. It sounded like they were very low. I made the second trip about half an hour later and either some of the fog had burned off, or I was just more attentive because I immediately caught sight of a small group of geese about to land in the field that boarders the church. Then I blinked. That field was moving.
I stood still and watched two more flocks land, joining what must have been hundreds, maybe thousands.
As I said, geese are a common thing here - but there was something stunning about seeing them, the mist slipping around them, making their long necks seem disengaged from their bodies. And the noise was amazing. For some reason I thought of the pot-luck lunch that would follow the service and that made me laugh out loud. The sound was similar to what our fellowship hall sounds like during pot lucks.
Anyway, it was a blessing from the Lord that lifted my spirits above the fog - or maybe I should say through it.