I heard the rain starting as I fell asleep last night. We’d had beautiful snow and I was bracing myself for the image this morning — wet green grass dotted with pockets of browned slushy snow remnants. I stepped out of the house and was stopped in my tracks. The snow was somewhat gone and very slushy, but that’s not what caught my eye. It was the fog. The air had that fresh, just-rained feel to it. There were birds chirping as if somehow the rain signaled a kind of spring. And everything was shrouded with that light airy fog that casts the world in a little bit of mystery. As I got into my car, I wondered what it was about fog that makes such beauty. The thought came to me that it’s the mystery. It’s what is hidden that draws us — like Eucharist, and faith. Not locked in a box, but just lightly covered so that with a breath, it parts and we see what our hearts long for.