There's something about this foggy, dreary, waiting for the snow storm to hit, Eeyore kind of day...my fingers missing every key it seems and red lines scream at me to correct my terrible typing.
I hate when I can't see the barns from the house. They are not that far away. Don't ask me how many feet. Only Thee Farmer can estimate that stuff - only sometimes he uses a measurement called "rods" which he learned from his daddy. (And "snittles" that's another farmer phrase that makes me giggle. Those are bits of paper and debris in the yard that have to be picked up before we mow.)
The fog swirls around like the scattered thoughts and lists in my brain. It settles in frost on the willow tree branches. Making an ice palace in our front yard that never ceases to take my breath away when I look out of the kitchen window and discover it. Like it was created just for me.
A thousand bazillion Legos litter the living room carpet. Alexander is intently staring at the table looking for just the right tiny piece. If he picks one up that isn't to his liking, onto the floor it goes. Sigh. I will forget about them and eventually step on one or two and shriek like a banshee.
So, here I am on this foggy Monday morning. At a crossroads of sorts, only in the fog, you can't see what's coming. You have to trust God to take your hand and lead you out of the darkness to the light. Trust that the sun still shines beneath the heaviness of the day. Trust and wait for the fog to lift so you can see and think and feel again.
|Photo Credit: https://armed4war.files.wordpress.com/2015/11/frothedit.jpg?w=775|
Right now, you may not feel like feeling. You might be stuck in this fog. But look up. Kneel down before Him and receive all that He promises for you, my friend. Receive. Be filled.