It settles itself—this moisture, these millions of droplets creating an on-the-ground cloud. The spikey corn stalks are no match. They try to poke up and through, but the cloud’s molecules simply settle between, over, and under the leaves, now turning brown in anticipation of the Indiana fall harvest.
As I drive this early morning, the untouchable fog rolls across my car’s hood as if it could indeed be handled and moved. Some patches are so dense that I slow down, only to then speed up in brief spots where the fog clears along Route 22, making my way between the towering cornfields at 7:00 a.m. on my way to work. The radio announces that local schools are on “fog delay.”
I drive slowly, eyes on the dotted yellow line that guides my way.
Sometimes my life feels like this morning drive. Some days it’s an intense feeling of being trapped, every part of my body surrounded by molecules that make me unable to see beyond the end of my nose. What’s waiting for me in this swirling mist?
“How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone” (James 4:14 NLT).
Perhaps it is in these moments where I can’t see through the fog of my life, when I feel trapped, that God is saying, “I need you on fog delay. I need you to pull back on the throttle of your life. Slow down. You’re stuck—you’re stuck with me. Let’s have a few precious moments together, when it’s all out of your control, so that you must focus on me.”
The fog delays in my life are not comfortable. I have things to do! But too often I am so eager to keep moving so I don’t have to stop and think about anything. I don’t want to feel the worry and pain. I don’t want to keep talking to God about the same wearisome worries. So I press on the pedal until—unable to see and afraid of veering far from the path—I am forced by the fog to put on the brakes. I go back to the wearisome prayers, willing myself not to give up, willing myself to be like the woman in the parable who won’t stop knocking until the judge gives her what she wants. But it’s exhausting, depressing, discouraging.
I want to press on the gas, hoping to buzz on through life and bypass the hurt.
Slow Down and Trust
But I must slow down. Feel. Hurt. Storm heaven. Bang on the door until the answer comes. As God promises it will.
He delays—for reasons unknown to me. The fog delays show me that life and growth and faith are processes.
I slow down and trust. I move slowly through the fog, letting it swirl around me, focusing not on what I cannot see but on the One who guides my way.
Linda (Chaffee)Taylor is an alumna from the Class of 1980. She currently runs the Professional Writing program at Taylor University in Upland, IN.
Highlander Devotionals are contributed by members of the broader Houghton community, including our worldwide alumni family. These reflections are a testament to the continued, transforming work of Jesus Christ in the lives of alumni and others who have called Houghton “home.”