The fog still lingers here in the Treasure Valley, most days keeping the sun from showing its face. I don't care much for gray days. OK, that's an understatement. I love the sun. It makes me happy. If I'm not careful, the gray outside can begin to be mirrored on the inside. Daily choosing joy...yes, it's a choice; taking off the old and putting on the new.
When I look out across the snow strewn field stretching behind our house, I'm met with a wall of white; a wall so thick I can't see the street light shining from the other side. Does that mean it's not there? Has is ceased working simply because I can't see it from my limited vantage point?
The Lord continues to use the fog to teach me about His goodness. Though I can't see him working in all this moving, I know He is. How do I know? Because He is faithful. Because He doesn't change like the shifting shadows. Because I can look back on so many times in our lives and the lives of others when He was working behind the scenes orchestrating what was not immediately visible, but would ultimately be for our good and for His glory. Those are the alters that give hope when we can't see what's ahead.
Yes, I am anxiously waiting for the sun to stick around for more than a few hours, but in the meantime I'm trusting in what I can't see just yet from my limited vantage point...the picture he's painting in the fog. I have a feeling it's going to be more than I ever imagined.
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