I drove in the fog to my mom’s house one recent morning. I didn’t realize it was going to be foggy, but I’m glad it was. I gave context of the last few months.
I realized that even thought we are driving through the fog, we feel as if we are driving in the fog. There’s a difference. One considers what is somewhere else, where we are going; the other focuses on the temporary surroundings. But anytime we’re in the fog, the world we can’t see clearly still exists.
I was coming out of a season of fogginess. I was still able to function well. There was nothing horribly wrong. In fact, part of the fog might have been prompted by the shift of several things settling in, just as actual fog is prompted by a shift of temperature and moisture.
I had finalized and published Fractured Into Wholeness, which was a lengthy, emotional process. I bought and settled into my new home. Several loose ends of the divorce wrapped up (at least, for now).
There was a lot more steadiness and certainty. But that was a shift, and it created some odd fog.
The fog can disorient us and make us want to stay put, and there were some days I did that. The feeling didn’t last for long, but it was abiding under the surface. It didn’t intrude on my daily routine; I still functioned well (or at least, sufficiently). I got done what needed to get done, and I found a lot of joy and satisfaction along the way. But there was just something…
As I drove through the fog that morning, I realized what it was. I was confident of many things even if I didn’t see them, just as the world continues to exist beyond the fog. The sky is still there even though it’s hidden. The sun still shines even though it is masked. Buildings and vehicles and roads are still there, even if we can’t see them clearly.
I knew many truths, especially related to my faith, even though I felt foggy at times. I was surprised by the fogginess, because I’d seen so many things with clarity in the most chaotic time of my life when my ex abruptly walked out on our marriage. Why would I struggle now?
I didn’t expect to be where I was then, but I dealt with it. At my core, I knew God prepared me and provided for me even in the mayhem. And moving through fog was similar. It was a surprising place to be, but I could still trust God through it. Even if I couldn’t see through the fog, I could persevere and reach for him, because I know he is trustworthy.
I kept struggling and squirming and moving forward. I was honest with myself and others. And the resulting shifts caused my perspective and opportunities to change. I still don’t completely understand the process or the situation, but I know what the result is and will continue to be—a deeper faith.
I won’t see the sun through the fog on all the days, but I still know it shines brightly.