We Have to Have Fog
It happened again—twice in a week! I have to catch this teaching!! I walked outside for my early morning walk, and I found myself enveloped by fog. Last week the fog was even denser! But today’s fog was equally mysterious and compelling.
First, I was lost in the sheer beauty of this precious blanket of mist. It looked and felt like Earth’s breath—rising from her warm body, breathing in the cool morning air. It was transfixing…magical, mystical, sacred. One fog would be a novel treat, but another early morning fog a few days later? Surely there’s a message here…
And so, I began to ask, as I walked with my “soul on deck”, what is it about fog? Why do we have fog? I know the science of Earth’s fogs, and I relish the hushed mystery of this natural phenomenon.
But what about the experience of fog on our own human journey, when we are shrouded in mystery? When we cannot see clearly what’s coming? We keep walking forward without really seeing what’s beyond the cloud. How strange to not see what lies beyond this line of houses and trees!! And yet we proceed, as though something draws us forward, beyond our unknowing, beyond hesitation or doubt.
One of life’s challenges is passing through the times of thick fog, of having to make decisions or choices when we have little or insufficient information to feel somewhat sure of the right path. The times of fog, thick or thin, bring the risk of moving forward almost blindly, with no assurance of safe travel, “successful” outcome, or painless passage. With no visible markers or clear path, we worry that we’ll end up far from home. Maybe we question God—“How can I end up where you want me? How can I navigate safely through a forest I cannot see to a future I do not see?” Yet as I grouse, a beloved Scripture I frequently cling to rises in my mind as God’s loving response :
“I will lead the blind on their journey. By paths unknown I will guide them. I will turn darkness into light before them and make crooked ways straight. These things I do for them and will not forsake them.” Isaiah 42: 16
In spite of the times of fog, of wondering what’s out there and what am I walking into, I want to ponder the necessity of fog. I want to understand the grace of NOT understanding. I want to learn to be content with mystery. I want to learn that fog lesson: don’t expect to know more than you know. St. John of the Cross wrote 500 years ago: “If you would come to the knowledge of all things, you must go by the way of not knowing.”
You know, as I walked in that early morning fog, everything seemed quieter. No racing chirping birds, signaling “all is well even though you can’t see what’s ahead.” Ah, Mother Earth, always teaching us how to be fully alive!! As the cool winds roll in off the Lake over the warming land, in this season of transition out of winter, nature teaches us, coaxes us to keep moving forward—even when we cannot see what lies ahead. I get fog’s message: Lean into mystery, face what is not clear with confidence and trust, for a great benevolent Creator is leading us—into a future full of hope!