In The Fog

The fog was thick as I started out on my morning walk.
I had gotten an alert on my phone, warning drivers of limited visibility.
I was not driving, I was walking.
I knew these roads.

I set out.
Everything looked different.
Tinges of autumn color were peeking through the fog.
Nothing looked familiar to me.

When I got to the end of my road, I looked at the field where the cows sometimes graze.
It looked like an English moor.
It was mysterious, with nothing clear to my vision.
I turned to walk back up the road but could not see very far in front of me.

I was thankful that I was in my own neighborhood.
I was grateful that I knew every turn in the road.
It was as if my legs had muscle memory.
As if on autopilot, my legs knew where to go.

Houses that were set back off the road, were invisible to me.
It was as if I was walking alone in a barren land.
I marveled at the mosaic the leaves made on the road.
I saw acorns with their little hats tossed here and there.

Two deer darted across the road in front of me.
If I had been a few feet further…I shuddered to think about what could have happened.
I looked towards the woods, behind the house where they ran.
The deer were gone, as if they had never been there.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. (Hebrews 11:1)

I thought about faith.
I thought about what it means to have faith.
I thought about continuing to walk when you cannot see your next step.
I thought about being certain when things are just not clear.

God appreciates that kind of walking.
God appreciates when we continue to walk on when the way is not clear.
God sees the care that we put into each step.
Faith is knowing that God is in the fog with us.

We never walk alone.
God is before the fog.
God is in the fog.
God is beyond the fog.

There is no place that God is not.

There was beauty in the fog.
The colors seemed brighter.
I found that I relied on my other senses.
I discovered that I heard sounds more clearly.

I saw some beautiful red leaves from a maple tree.
I made a mental note to walk this way with my granddaughters.
I thought of how we could collect those red leaves and press them between wax paper.
How I loved when my mother did that when I was a little girl.

I thought of the pressed leaf between two sheets of wax paper.
I remember that the leaf under the wax paper looked as if it was in the fog.
The opaque wax paper preserved the leaf but changed its appearance.
It was still the same leaf but it was changed.

Things get foggy in our lives from time to time.
We walk on, but we are unsure of the next step.
Our lives feel as if they are between two sheets of wax paper.
Nothing is clear.

You know when you fly on an airplane on a cloudy day?
You know how it appears as if you are flying though swirls of cotton candy?
You know when the plane reaches an elevation above the clouds?
You know when you get the first glimpse of the sun?

The sun!
The clouds are gone.
Everything that was gray and cloudy is now clear and bright.
Everything that looked so bleak is now vibrant and beautiful.

That, “above the clouds” perspective is what God sees all the time.
That, “above the clouds” perspective is what we need in these hard days.
Nothing is clear, yet we have muscle memory to walk on.
Muscle memory to walk rightly even when the path is obscured.

Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.
Certain of what we do not see.
Relying on God who walks through the fog with us.
Waiting until the sun bursts forth and the fog lifts.

Amen and Amen.