Cindy K. Sproles is an author and a speaker, whose dream is to do nothing more than craft words that speak from the heart. God's plan seems to be for her to write and teach the craft.  With God’s guidance, Cindy is expanding her horizons. We'll see how He uses her.

Cindy is a mountain gal. Proud of her heritage, she was born and raised in the Appalachian Mountains where life is simple, words have a deep southern drawl, and colloquialisms like, "well slap my knee and call me corn pone" seem to take precedence over proper speech. Apple Butter, coal mining, the river, pink sunrises, and golden sunsets help you settle into a porch swing and relax. Family, the love of God, and strong morals are embedded into her life in the mountains. Teaching writers, spinning fiction tales about life in the mountains, history, and down-home ideas find their way into all she does. “I love to write devotions, to seek after the deeper side of Christ, and to share the lessons He teaches me from life in the hills of East Tennessee. I am a writer. A speaker. A lover of God's Word and friend to all.” This is Cindy Sproles. Welcome home to the mountains.

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Fog, Mist, Morning

9/29/2022 7:45:00 AM BY Cindy Sproles

I love everything about the mountains, but I think one of my most favorite things is a misty morning. My morning, whether I like it or not, begins at 4:30 a.m. I don’t ask to wake up then, but I do. I’m usually out of bed by 5:00 unless I force laziness over me, and then it might be 5:45 a.m.

I dress and head downstairs to pull on my rubber boots and start my morning chores with the “chickens.”  But when I push open my door and step onto the porch, surrounded by a white mist that can even be seen in the dark – it takes my breath away. I love to stand there and feel nature dampen my skin and raise chill bumps on my arms.

For a few moments, I stand motionless. It’s that time of the morning when everything is still. Even the birds, who love early morning, are quiet. This is that moment when the earth takes in a deep breath before birthing a new day and it is absolutely the most serene and surreal time of the day.

I know my path around the house to the backyard. There’s no need for a flashlight or floodlight on the house. We keep the area free of obstacles and I can walk it without the worry of tripping. Though we don’t live IN the woods, there are large wooded areas behind the houses across the street and they harbor a large family of deer. It’s not unusual to have them lingering in the yard next door, or leaping our chainlink fence when they hear me coming. I can hear every crack and pop of the twigs of fallen tree limbs. I would almost say, you can hear the dew drop.

It’s a lovely moment for me, and though these days happen throughout the summer, they heighten as fall approaches. The nip in the air tells me nature is slipping into her winter rest. As I pull my sweater tight around my shoulders and make my way to the back, I can stop at the fence and raise my nose into the air – take in the sweet, sweet scent of falling leaves and taste the beginning of winter.

In this silence, wrapped in a blanket of mist, I frequently hear God speak. It’s here, through nature, He reminds me of His glory and how He is intimately a part of every detail of my life. Learning to listen takes practice because if I let my mind wander, I may miss the message that dangles in the dew or hides in the fog. God only wants me. My full attention. Though He loves my presence in His service, what He calls me most to...is the stillness where He stands. Look around. Do you see me? Do you hear me? Can you feel my presence?

Maybe I notice more about Him these days because I’m stepping into the fog of my golden years. Things seem closer, more at hand, than they used to be. Perhaps it’s the wisdom of age or the greying of my hair. Who knows. All I can say is, in this season God feels so real.

I hope you will rise earlier than normal – before the sun peers through the curtain of night, and take in the morning just before it's given to birth. There you will find peace in your confusion. Hope in the things that you don’t understand and the joy that waits when you share it with the Father of all. Bathe in the mist of the morning and find God.


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