Making the Most of Mist
There are certain times more than others, that the fabric of time, tissue-thin and translucent, is more apparent against the fragility of my own life. Yet as I write, I leave tatters of myself in these words. Ironic it is that time, in its familiar linear form, so resembles these scrawlings; these looping, interweaving tokenistic threads - meaningless unless otherwise buoyed upon a living heart, mind and soul.
My Maker says that I am mist. How then shall I make the most of this mist? As a mist, might I be missed upon the blinking of an eye, or might I refresh upon a face, or dazzle, be it ever so briefly when lit? Perhaps I may cling to that around me and persist for just a moment longer, like morning dew.
If I am to be a mist, then amen. My I be driven then, not by storms, but by the will of God. May I be the swirling illuminated spray that delights the Lord. May I be no more and no less that what pleases He who made me and purposed me to be. By reflecting His light, may I bear witness to the beauty of creation, nobility of purpose, and truth of life.
- Based on James 4
