Navigating Life Through the Fog

 Navigating Life through the Fog

"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path" Psalm 119:105

      I remember the night of January 24th, 2024, well.  It was our son's 12th birthday.  My wife hadn't been feeling very well; a matter of fact, her condition was getting dramatically worse with each passing day.  She wasn't able to celebrate his birthday, so I let my oldest son pick his favorite place to celebrate.  Little did I realize that this would be a foreboding image of things in the future.  I came home after church to find my wife struggling to breathe.  Her oxygen level was in the mid 80s, which brought us straight to the local hospital.  A few tests later, she was being transported to a major hospital in our area because of how dire her situation was.  I came home to get her things, not knowing what the future held.  It was about one in the morning.  I drove in a daze, praying, panicking,  and pleading with God.  I remember the entire drive was extremely foggy.  I was driving roads that were unfamiliar to me, and the fog forced me to drive at a snail's pace.  The physical fog lifted the next day, but my mental and spiritual fog still remains to this day.  That night forever changed my life.  It darkened my sky, drained the color from my life, and muddied so many things.  That day would lead to a cancer diagnosis, a ten-month cancer battle, a temporary goodbye as she went home to Jesus, and me having to rebuild an entire life as something I never thought I would be, a widower.  When Tif passed away, it felt like someone dropped me into a heavy fog.  I could barely see the next step in front of me.  Everything that once felt certain became clouded and utterly confusing.  Every plan that we made, the dreams that we shared, the everyday routines were all swallowed up in a mist of grief and uncertainty.

     My headlights could only cut through so much fog that night.  They simply couldn't penetrate the dense fog.  I drove slowly, carefully, relying on what little of the road that I could see.  Life in grief feels much the same way.  I don't often get a chance to see very far in front of me.  I don't get to see the full map anymore.  But God gives me just enough light to take the next step forward.  It might be a baby step, but it's a step. In my early grief, it was hard to do things like getting out of bed, cooking a meal, showering, and playing with my kids.  Other times, it was whispering the quietest prayer, telling God that the heart was hemorrhaging.  

     Here is the thing about fog: it doesn't last forever.  The sun eventually breaks through.  Slowly, gradually, what was once hidden becomes clearer.  The fog lingers, but God's light is so steady.  He doesn't disappear in the thickest fog, but instead, He walks with me, guiding me through every uncertain turn.  He walks me through the valley of the shadow of death.  How does He do that?  Our verse says that God's Word is a lamp unto our feet and a light to our path.  God uses His Word as a light to guide our steps.  That is never more important than when you journey through grief and widowerhood.  Losing a spouse causes us to lose our true North.  Everything that was once so certain is so cloudy. We need to run to that which is certain, that which is changeless, that which is a guarantee.  We flee to God's Word.  David says that God's Word is a light and a lamp.  The image that David would have had was a simple clay oil lamp.  An oil lamp would be lit at night near where a person was sleeping.  When the dark struck, that single light would illuminate a home.  If a person wake up in the night and need to find direction, they would grab the oil lamp, place it in their hand, and let the light go in front of them, extinguishing the darkness.  That is what God's Word needs to do at all times in our lives, but especially when grief causes our vision to become unclear.  We need God's Word to go before us.  It is impossible to spiritually navigate grief, or life in general, unless God's Word leads the way.

     So, I'm simply trusting God to provide me with enough light each day so I can take the next step of faith.  Just enough grace for the day, for the moment, for the next breath.  And over time, I've watched God give me such beautiful glimpses of hope breaking through.  He reminds me that even in the fog, He is faithful.

Reflection questions:

      1. Where in your life does it feel foggy?

      2. Are you rooting yourself in God's Word for direction and comfort?

      3. Are you trusting God with just enough light for the next moment?