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Thursday, October 12, 2017

foggy morning in the valley


Someone on Instagram recently asked "what is your favorite way to spend the morning?" and one of the things that I wrote in my comments is that right now I love to see the sky as I drive over the highway on my way to pick up our carpool friends. It is different every day. 

This morning, the valley where I live is covered in thick fog. I could barely even see the Chick-fil-a, it was just a few lights in the distance. It really is beautiful though. I drove by the Christmas tree farm and yet again resisted the urge to pull over and take a picture, it is just so beautiful. But as I approach the big intersection near Wal-Mart I can barely even see across to the other side and suddenly the beautiful fog feels scary. 


That is what life feels like right now. I am editing my book and I'm at the point where I just want to send the whole thing through the shredder. Nearly every day I have thoughts about what a terrible job I have done of writing this book, that this project is self-indulgent at best. It's too shot and not good enough. I am at the intersection, and as much as I want to turn around I need to cross, even though I can't see clearly what is on the other side. 
On the other side of this particular physical intersection this morning, a little ways down the road, the fog lifts. It only hangs out around the fields near my son's school, the last remnants of the dairy farms that have turned suburbs. The fog kisses the tips of the trees, like the clouds are curious about what life is like down here.  

Sometimes it's foggy. It's a reality in the weather and it's a reality in life. Fog is beautiful until it is so thick you can barely see. In these moments all I know to do is slow down and trust that the reflective lines on the pavement will keep me headed in the right direction and take me to the other side. When I can't see clearly what is ahead, all I can do is slow down and trust. 





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