Lifting the Fog

Living in the desert for 13 years you get used to sunshine and blue sky 360 days a year. The other 5 days clouds finally have enough mass or altitude to surmount the San Jacinto, Santa Rosa and San Bernardino Mountains that encompass the Coachella Valley. One's view of life can become a bit unrealistic given the constant clarity of the days and nights – where every detail of one's surroundings is un-obscured. The night stars are still so bright that those understanding celestial navigation would never lose their way.

Living on the coast, however, one's view is often clouded by an opaque canvas of clouds and fog. Leslie and I have found this affects how we feel, and we have come to appreciate each clear day; Catalina has now become our gauge of clarity as we measure the ability to see shades of the island as we did our mountain ranges. Standing outside the Mission one evening, I watched as a wall of heavy fog slowly made its way up Pacific Avenue; it was an eerie sight, and conjured up thoughts of obscurity. It was an almost suffocating feeling as was the closeness of the city itself that had caused me some initial claustrophobia when I first arrived here.

As on July Fourth, we hoped to sit on our lawn and enjoy a front row seat for the New Year’s midnight fireworks off the Queen Mary (one of the perks of renting a house on Ocean Blvd.). But our enthusiasm was dampened by the thick blanket of fog that had crawled in and had no intention of lifting. At the appointed time we could hear the explosions, but could see nothing – only a few diffused flashes (definitely not a Francis Scott Key moment).

It is interesting to me how many of these elements provide pictures of the homeless we minister to at the Mission. Most of us develop tools to deal with change in the weather and in our lives. We realize that in the occasional fog reality exists. We know the clouds will ultimately clear, that the sunny day is not a constant, that the issues life throws at us can be dealt with given enough time and relationships with those around us – and through faith. But what of those who have lost that ability to deal with the fog, have an overwhelming feeling of obscurity, living a life wherein addictions provide a constant veil – a life now void of relationships and faith? We can't ship them all off to the sunny desert; that wouldn't solve their problem (no matter how many would like to ship the homeless off somewhere out of sight).

What we can do is help them see that there is a tomorrow without clouds and fog; that, like seasons, cycles in nature and life are healthy and inevitable; they can be understood, prepared for, and the cycle of destructive behavior broken. We can help them take advantage of the occasional clear day and see that there is hope in tomorrow and in having faith – faith in God, in themselves, in relationships and society.

Thank you for helping us help people hope.