On Sunday morning, 12 July, I awoke early and did some private writing, not originally intended to be shared:
“This morning, the fog is so thick that I can see nothing beyond the old spruce stump at the edge of the bluff. For all I can tell, Cook's Inlet does not exist, nor the volcanoes, nor the sea shore, nor eagles or gulls...except I can still hear the constant purr-swish of the waves as they brake on the beach. It is a monotonous sound, but not a boring sound. It is, in fact, quite comforting. Purr-swish, purr-swish – like the lub-dub, lub-dub when auscultating someone's chest...an audible confirmation that something I cannot see is still there and functioning as expected.
“I think Faith in a Higher Power is somewhat like hearing that constant purr-swish. I have the steadfast assurance of spiritual guidance – regardless of my inability to see or touch or question or argue – precisely because I can hear the purr-swish coming to me out of the fog. My guidance comes from being attached to the sound of those waves, from seeking His Will for me; then, the counsel comes to me unbidden from out of the fog that surrounds me.”
On the drive north out of the Kenai Peninsula, I got the unhappy news that my German Short-haired Pointer, Missy, had gotten loose and was killed on the highway. Purr-swish. I don't understand – perhaps I never will – but I am glad I had those thoughts earlier in the day.
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