When You Wonder If Morning Will Come

Like a fluffy, white comforter it lay. Stretched out between the valley of cows and the road taking us high unto our home. Fog so thick, puffy, white.  Still resting in the lowlands before the sun beams bright unto all creation.

I watch it as I drive.  Up, down, over the hills, catching glimpses of what might be, if the fog never existed.

And  I imagine the cows, treading long, looking difficult for their morning meal, their offspring wandering in the thick of it all.

Still this fog that pockets itself in deep trenches, stretches out along the low lands is not a stranger to us at all.

And I wonder if God, hides two worlds, the now and the eternal by the same misty barrier, earth laying low between a thin cloud of vapor, keeping us from seeing what His Kingdom above it.

I rise in the hill onward to our home. Up where the trees call, the eagle-lovers perch and have made their home forever, in a nest high in a tree.

And as I ascend, my car seems to drive right through the strip of comforter, resting in the low lands, hiding what is below and our home that rests above it.

And yet, won’t we, one day, experience the fullness of view, the full spectrum of perspective that makes us look back and wonder why we ever doubted a world above the clouds.

The sun is rising now. Slowly, over the hill.  Where the white-caped mountains can be seen now that I am up above the fog.

And as I near my home.  I look back.  The fog is gone. The division between the valley and my home exist no more.

And I want a faith like that.  A faith that sees higher, wider, trusts the sun is rising….even when I can’t see it.

I want a faith that experiences His goodness even when I lay low in the pasture, or can’t see my own feet in front of me.  When I can’t stand or make my self realize…and this too shall pass.  This blanket of fog we are hidden beneath.

Cause we can trust the sun to rise.  Can’t we?  We can trust that although the valley seems low, the clouds seem thick, the morning of our hope may never come…it will. 

It will because He stands high above the hill, peering through the vapor.  Him holding us in the clouds and walking with us, even in thick of it….though physical eyes can’t see Him.

The sky opens us, light flashes across the dark morning, as if God himself has opened his eye lids, taken away the thin blanket of fog separating us all.

And I delight in the full range of vision.  This, vapor-less view from up above it all.

And I thank God.  Thank Him that beautiful rises with the shining sun.  I thank Him for clear skies, for open valleys seen below…but now from a clearer perspective.

And I thank Him for never leaving us.  In the dark night, in the valleys low, on the hilltops where we somehow most easily feel one with a God who is grand, known, and the creator of it all.

And I write in my journal, “He is there in the fog, in the deepest, above, below, between what separates us from knowing…from seeing…”.  Reminding myself, that although now clouds might try to hinder us trusting…

The morning is coming.  Home is not far.