Here we are again; Daddy and I in a hospital room. He is 89 now, so this is not our first rodeo. Emergency room last night, not so great news, then up to the 5th floor we came. We got to the room at about 3:00 AM, which means I’ve had enough sleep to sit here and knock out some work before exhaustion sets in this afternoon. As I was setting up my work laptop, I glanced at the window and did an immediate double-take. I might as well have been looking into one big grey cotton ball. The storms of yesterday evening had turned into the fog of this morning, and there was no view to be had from the hospital tower this morning….not even from the 5th floor.
It struck me as I gazed out into seeming nothingness that I might as well just accept it. Nothing I could do would show me what was on the other side of that pea soup. Suddenly I realized that God was gently reminding me that sometimes life’s path is just a big grey blob with only question marks in sight.
It’s not my first foggy rodeo, either. I’ve walked paths cloaked in uncertainty before. In fact, most of my life over the past year has been shrouded in fog and question marks. I’ve gone through three major life changes in that year, and there have certainly been tough moments. However, I did not curl up into an emotional fetal position as I had so many times before. During one of the scariest times in my life I had the strength and courage to hear what God had to say, close my eyes, take a deep breath, and step out into the fog.
Almost a year into life being a moving target, I am beginning to see the fruit of that faith. God has led me, step by step, through building many stones along this new path. They’re packed solidly in the soil of His direction and it feels good to walk on them. At this point I don’t have to keep looking down quite so much to put the stones into place, and can actually look out to see what lies ahead with a bit more hope and happy anticipation.
As I finished setting everything up to work and sat back down, I looked out the window again. The fog had just barely begun to lift, and I could see bits of trees and signs and roads. I smiled, because the view out that window looked just like my life. For the first time in a long time, what I see lying ahead is a bit more clearly defined. It’s not crystal clear, but I can see the outlines of good things ahead. It feels good to be at a place where God has once again lifted some of the fog.