|photo credit: pixabay.com|
The FogOne thing about living on our little hill, the fog shows up in all its glory. This morning, it was a complete white out. For the first time in my experience of driving in fog, I didn't feel apprehensive. I was cautious, careful, but calm. There was a strange peace about the morning as if the fog was hugging me. I felt the strong assurance that everything was where it should be, even though I couldn't see it. And by 11 AM, it was all clear.
So I was startled this evening when the glorious fog reappeared, in cloudy, swirling masses around the light posts at the mall where I was having a birthday slice of chocolate cake with a friend. It was interesting and mildly disconcerting to walk through the fog in the strip mall. We both knew we had to drive home in it, and I know that if it was so thick on these lowlands, what was it like on my little hill with no street lights?
I headed home, and as the highway gradually wound chill, the cloud got thicker and heavier. As I drove slower and more carefully, I began to worry about the drivers that were suffering behind me, because of my reduced pace. I exited the highway to begin the real climb, and the tiny glimmer of visibility I'd had on the journey so far disappeared. My attentiveness to the other drivers' opinions of my driving dissipated. My entire focus was on seeing what I could (Was that a deer??) and staying on track. After a few turns around the winding road, I realized that I had missed my street! Turning around was impossible where I was (Who could see if the pond was over there and the woods over here??) so I continued at the painful crawl to the intersection with the street light, to turn around. Small twinges of uneasiness and, possibly fear played across my shoulders and in my stomach. Would I see my road coming back?
My Fog, My ClarityThe fog reminds me that I can't see what's ahead. When days are clear and bright, it creates the illusion of control and builds my dependence on my own skills. Those days feel really good. Therapies are working. School isn't calling. Kids are co-operating. The house is moderately clean. It's as if those clear days create a future prediction that I can manage what life brings. Then the foggy days come, and all the stuff I used to see clearly, I don't. I have to trust that it's still there even when I don't see it. My son is still the same incredibly beautiful, complex, philosophical human, in an uncooperative body. Nothing has changed. Except for my perception of my ability to cope. Perhaps my perception was false on the sunny days and the fog is the true reality. I can never see clearly. I must always trust that the Invisible God is in charge of the invisible.
I questioned my ability to get my car out of a parking spot that I had cleverly slipped it into, and my wise daughter, guided by the Holy Spirit, commented, 'That's future Faith's problem'. We left the car with confidence and attended to our current reality. Future Faith would handle it, with God. This entire week is invisible. Who knows what will happen? Well, that's future Faith's problem, and she will handle it, with God. And so will you. So steady your heart.