Story - Clarity - NL - 11

Clarity

I'm walking through a fog; a hazy mist that is felt yet intangible. I cannot use it as a directional reference nor bolster myself against it. It clouds my vision everywhere I turn. I can walk through it at my slowest or run with bounding strides, but there is nothing visible to gauge progress except the sweat from my exertion.

I wish a giant leafblower would blow away the haze so I can escape the suffocation as I breathlessly try to escape it. However, once I stop struggling, it has a deadening effect. I want to get out of it, but it seems futile to try. Why bother the effort? I can stay in the foggy aura and think of it as a comfort. At least I can't see anything scary. I can't see anything good either, but that's okay. I can rest in this fog and never have to move again. This can be my new state of being; never having to worry about anyone else's opinions of me, my own judgments of myself, or God's judgments. I'm all alone here in this dusky mist; no one to talk to and no one to answer to.

And then, all of a sudden, something unpleasant happens. It feels jarring, like the pain of accidently stepping in a hole and twisting my ankle. At first, it's a sharp pain and my ankle is swollen. Even as the swelling goes down, my ankle continues to throb. The pain cannot really leave unless I get up, go make an icepack, and elevate my foot. Unfortunately there usually are no freezers or ice machines in clouds of fog. Whenever I put pressure on the ankle, I feel pain shooting up my leg. As I walk, each step makes me wince and tense the muscles of my entire body, awakening more with every stride. My eyes dart around looking for sign of civilization: rocks, signposts, paths, or even people.

When I was in the state of foggy complacency, I remember there were dark sillhouettes in the distance, but it always seemed too far to reach. Now, I have no choice but to funnel all my energy into reaching these dark shapes for they might be able to help me. It takes what feel like a extremely long time as I hobble towards them. I could have found them much faster without a injured ankle, but then I would have never started moving without getting hurt. I finally approach the dark shapes and realize that there are two trees and a stump. The standing trees were quite large, at least ten people could make a ring around them. The stump was even bigger, at least twice as large. I approach the stump and rest against it.

Then a voice calls out to me, "Pretty tired then? Good thing for that old stump. Never turns anyone away."

I look up, startled by the sound of another voice, and see an old woman with whitish grey hair standing behind me. She must have come from around the other trees, since there was nothing but open foggy land all around.

"Yes," I say hesitatingly, "I'm very thankful for the stump." Then, remebering my ankle, I ask, "Pardon me, but where did you come from? I twisted my ankle while walking out in the fog and was wondering if I could get an icepack."

She looks at me quizzically and asks, "Do you not see the drug store over there?" as she points to her right side. All I can see is white mist, bit if I squint hard enough, I can see some more dark shapes. She sees I am straining my eyes in that direction, then a wave of realization changes her face. Her eyes become softer and she understandingly asks me, "You've been wandering for awhile in the fog, haven't you?"

I look back into her eyes trying to hide the hurt of my throbbing ankle and answer, "Yes, but I don't want to stay there anymore." She nods as if she knows exactly what I mean and holds out her hand to me. As I take it, all the lines around me become a little sharper and more defined.

We walk away from the trees and the stump, hand in hand to help support my weight. As we walk, the fog slowly starts to dissipate and there is a glowing light that we seem to be walking towards. "Where are we going?" I ask her. She chuckles softly to herself and says, "Well it seems as if you've got two things that aren't working: your ankle and your eyes. Let's see if we can fix both for you."

I don't know what she means about my eyes, but she mentioned she could help my ankle, so hopefully she helps me with that first.

She leads on with me limping beside her and I see that the light is from a small house. It looks like a log cabin. The wood is dark and old, and the steps look a little rickety. As we approach, she says, "I do need to repaint the window boxes. They look like they're chipping." I keep quiet, but think to myself that the house could use a lot more than a little paint. She helps me up the steps onto the porch and opens the door. We step into the living room and she leads me to the couch where she props up my foot with a large cushion. She walks away and comes back with an icepack. She sets it on my ankle and smilingly asks me, "So this is how you woke up, then?" I shrug my shoulders a little and reply, "I suppose so. I don't remember much of what happened before."

"Well," she begins, "it usually quite a bit to wake people up. You're quite fortunate it only took a small injury like this. It take a lot more for others to get them out of the stupor." As I feel my ankle still throbbing under the ice, I would not consider my situation to be fortunate, but I don't say otherwise. Instead, I ask say, "I don't know about that, since you say there's something wrong with my eyes. How do we fix that?" She walked over to her bookshelf and grabbed an old leather covered book with a ribbon sticking out of it and handed it to me. She pulled up a chair next to me and said, "The only way to truly get out of the fog is to find the light. It's in this book. Find it and follow it every single day, or else you leave room for the fog to come back in." Her face is grave, yet there is unreserved assurance in her words. She makes eye contact with me and I notice that there are small white scars on her face. I look at her forearms bared by the rolled up sleeves of her flannel shirt, and see more scars. Though she must be in her sixties, I can see that she is strong and her skin is taut with muscle regardless of the topical mars. Looking away from the woman, I begin to take in my surroundings.

I see that there is a fireplace emitting a warm heat creating a cozy atmosphere throughout the room. The bookshelf she went to has many more books of all different sizes and there are shelves on the walls with figurines and photos. There is even one small statuette in an odd "t" shape. I feel overwhelmed with the lines and colors of each individual object in the room. The only things I can remember before my ankle is white blurriness, and now I feel like I am in a new dimension. I remember hat I could see these types of things before, but if was never as magnificient of a feeling as this, regaining the ability for what seems like the first time. All around me, details continue to pop into my vision, and then I look again at the woman. She seems to have an even kinder and softer face than before. We make eye contact again and I say in a soft, almost quavering voice, "I have not seen these things in a long time." She take my hands, brings them closer to her and replies, "I know, dear one. Are you ready to start seeing things again?"

My eyes widen at her words. I nod in affiermstion as tears start to well in the inner corners of my eyes. I embarassedly try to take my hands from hers and rub them away, but she hold them fast and says, "Let them come. They help wash away the old vision and give you clarity." She then closes her eyes and bows her head. I close my eyes as well and remain silent as I listen to her speak aloud about the light that came to bring us out of the fog.