Get your lights on, Mr. Foggybritches
As I was coming home from work today, I drove into a fog bank right as I began crossing the bridge over the Choctawhatchee bay. Normally the sky is high and the watery horizons are wide, even on a hazy day, but not today. Today my vision didn’t extend a whole lot further than my car.
Fog has a way of pulling your focus in close. Sometimes too close. Sometimes when the fog is thick enough, you can forget other vehicles are out there.
That’s why it’s important to turn on your lights. It’s not so much to help you see as to help you be seen.
Life has foggy seasons. The sky gets low and the horizons pull in close, and it feels like you’re moving through life wrapped like a mummy.
Can’t see squat.
Can’t hear very well, either.
Can’t move normally.
And so you grope along, trying to keep it between the ditches.
It’s easy to become so focused on what you can see (which is almost nothing) that you forget about what you can’t see (which is just about everything). It’s like we suddenly get it all backwards the moment the fog rolls in. It would be like trying to land a plane at Chicago O’Hare while staring at the bug on your windshield.
It stinks, but who of us hasn’t been there?
But I love knowing that just because it’s foggy doesn’t mean it’s dark. Even in the middle of the foggy seasons we’re still light-bearers. We’re not disqualified just because the ceiling got low on us. On our worst days we are still anointed and called to great things. There is grace for the times we feel like we’re bumbling along in a whiteout.
And it’s blessed relief for us that the good news just never stops coming.