While spending some time up at our remote Smoky Mt. cabin this month, I’ve been awestruck by the ever-mysterious white mountain mist – just as countless folks over the centuries have been. Someone way back when, I suppose, was so inspired they even named the whole range for it … the Smokies.
It’s an interesting phenomenon I don’t get to enjoy in my native flat Florida. You’d think all that humidity down there would provoke some major mists of its own, but all it seems to know how to do is frizz hair.
In the Smokies, at times the mist is so thick and rich, present and encompassing, you feel it right down to your bone marrow. Like it’s always been an integral part of you and always will be.
Other times, it’s wispy and swirling, winsome and playful, showing a lighter, soulful side that’s quite endearing. It caresses the skin the same way love caresses the heart. My favorite time of day is the early morning when the very first sunbeams breaking through the canopy of leafy tree branches begin playing tag with the mist, eventually chasing away even the most elusive lingering patches.
But every so often, particularly when a thunderstorm has just barreled over the mountain, the residual mist seems heavy and sad, remorseful and … dare I say … mourning. And yet despite the weightiness of spirit, there’s an underlying stirring of hope.
Reminds me of the Holy Spirit’s multiple roles in our lives: at times thick and rich, present and all-encompassing; sometimes wispy and whirling, winsome and playful; and when dark storms have assaulted us and we’ve not leaned into our faith as we could’ve, heavy and sad, remorseful and mourning.
It makes me pause in a moment of gratitude in recognition that we have a triune God who goes to the trouble to take on so many amazingly different forms to help us through our life journey. He loves us that much.
Thankfully, the melancholy side to the mountain mist doesn’t last long. Just until the sunbeams break through once again.
Say, BBFF (Best Blog Friend Forever), who can share the scripture that last thought brings to mind? (Hint: it’s in the Psalms.) Know what? I’ll randomly draw a name from all who respond correctly (even if it’s a different verse than I have in mind, as long as it captures the general idea) and send you a free copy of my Too Blessed to be Stressed: 3 Minute Devotions, how’s that?
This is gonna go down within the next few days, so don’t tarry – respond below as soon as you come up with the answer! The winner will be announced right here on my blog in my next post so if you’re not already subscribed, do it now (button on the right of your screen).
Connie Saunders says
Good morning Debora. The 23rd Psalm is one of the first scriptures that I memorized as a child and it has always given me comfort. Psalms 139:11-12 is also very comforting to me because HE always sees and HE always knows my needs. “If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
And then there is Psalm 46. In verses 1-3 we are assured that “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea; Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. Selah”
Such blessed assurance!
Blessings to you, my BBFF!!
Diane Stanko says
Ps. 30:5 –“weeping may last the night, but joy comes in the morning!” What a beautiful promise God gives us — and the mist of the Smokies does remind us. How neat!
Judy Schultz says
Psalm 30:5 Weeping may endure for a night but joy come th in the morning.
Congrats, Judy! Your name was drawn to win a copy of my Too Blessed to be Stressed 3-Minute Devotions for Women! (You nailed the verse, by the way!) So happy for you! Please PM me your address; would you like the book inscribed to you or someone else? Hugs, girlfriend!
Susan Tull says
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,