Beyond the Fog

The small Canadian town I live in is often called “The River Valley” because two rivers meet up here,  Our home sits up a hill on the side of one of those rivers, overlooking the town.  Often, on a spring or fall morning, we will wake to a heavy fog covering the entire valley.  I wake in the morning, open all my curtains and all I see is fog. 

Something about those cool foggy mornings makes me want to just sit and be still.  There is a distinct quietness in it that causes me be calm and want to observe my surroundings.  It is actually quite beautiful to look at.  But there is also a feeling of uncertainty.  When the fog is at its thickest, I can’t see much beyond the edge of our yard.  I can’t see what is “out there.” I can hear cars passing on the street, birds chirping in the trees, and dogs barking in the distance, but I don’t necessarily see them.  

But here is the thing - I know what’s out there.  I know that, underneath the fog, there is the quaint little town that I live in, the place that I am so familiar and comfortable with and that I call home.  I may not be able to see it currently, but I know it is there.

This makes me think about my life.  There are times when the “fog” of a trial, the “fog” of uncertainty is covering everything.  All that I know and find comfort in seems to have disappeared.  Everything that I usually find my security in seems gone.  I try to look around but I can’t see what’s just beyond. It’s hard to know what is out there. 

And yet, I do know what’s there.  It’s God.  Even when my vision is clouded over and I may be fearful of what I can’t see,  I know that God is still there.  God, who is my Comfort, the One whom I am familiar with, the One in whom I can find my home.  I may temporarily not be able to “see” evidence of it, but He is there - in the heavy thick fog just as He is in the light clear air.

And just like the early morning fog always lifts and goes away revealing the town that I knew in my mind was there, the fog of my trials always lifts as well.  It may last longer than I want, it may be thicker than I like, but it does eventually vanish and clear away and show me what I know is always there — my faithful God.