Transcription
February 6, 2012
Hello, World!
"There's something in the fog." It's a classic line from an old horror movie.
As an inmate, taking it at face value, there is nothing in the fog because we are locked down—no movement. No work. No school. Nothing. However, fog also obliterates the concrete cubes, the barbed wire topped fences, and the gun towers. It's an eraser from God to wipe away the results of my poor choices. I could even say the whiteness is the washing away of my sins against man and God. It is a dew point manifestation of Christ's cleansing of my soul. It is a beautiful thing.
As if magically opening a window to allow the cloud to envelop me, my petty worries of this world disappear. There are no mountains of clothes to wash in the laundry where I work; there is no concern if I will be allowed to shower today; the restitution that I rightly must pay, its burden floats away as the drops on a breeze that no man can see. I laugh at the absurdity that worry makes a difference. It was wasted energy that I could have put into productivity, of prayers of praise, and letters of gratitude.
"There is something in the fog: me!"
Thanks for checking in on me.
Cordially,
[signature]
George Barnes Watson
D-67547 C-14-104-U
PO Box 409060
Ione, CA 95640
Novel: A Thundering Wind
https://www.amazon.com/Thundering-Wind-Gregory-Barnes-Watson/dp/0615379443
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