What To Do When The Way Is Foggy

What To Do When The Way Is Foggy

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I was out of milk this morning. Eggs too.  There was not a biscuit on the property.  I had to make a choice.  There was bread and coffee here. My head was foggy and my stomach empty.  I could burn the bread and chase it down with some strong java. I’ve went that route before.  The other option would be to get out of my pajamas, put on my blue jeans, and head to the store. I still can’t bring myself to go shopping in my pj’s.  My stomach growled audibly at the thought of burnt toast so I made the change and headed to the store.

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I noticed immediately as I walked out the front door that it was a very foggy morning. Everything was dripping with dew.  That creates a quiet, peaceful feel in the early hours here in the hills.  I could tell as I climbed in the truck that my mind was starting to do that contemplating thing it does sometimes.  I hate it when it does that.

I drove along on the familiar country roads that seem to have always been a part of my life. There are many stories to be told on these back roads. Early on Saturday you might only meet one or two travelers on your trip. They are usually either old, retired men headed to meet old friends for breakfast or those hard working folks who go six days a week to make a buck.  Occasionally you pass a leftover from the night before, which is apparent by the fact that they are driving in the ditch. But this morning was different. I couldn’t make out anyone until I got very close.  It was hard to see where I was going.

I knew where the store was at.  It has been there for years.  I could probably get close to it driving blind folded, if I did not meet last night’s wayward soul on my side of the road, of course. So I cruised along at an easy pace with a heart full of gratitude to be where I am from.  I am grounded here and there is something special in that. I think that’s something that many are lacking today. They don’t have a sense of home. I got to the store, bought my biscuits, and gave a Roll Tide to the lady who conducted my transaction. Then I felt my way home through the fog with substanance for my sleeping family.  This is the good life, even when it’s tough to see where you are going.

Sometimes life gets a little foggy.  We forget who we are and where we have been.  The path is not always as clear as we would like for it to be. The road this morning was still there although I couldn’t see it.  That’s how it is with our journey.  Although things cloud our vision and sometimes even our heart we still have a place to go.  I was hungry this morning so I took a road that was familiar to a place where I could be fed.  A lot of folks are wandering through this life in a fog.  Maybe we need to trust the paths we have traveled before.  Oh, and if you can’t find your way, stop and ask a neighbor.  I hate to see a person with no biscuits.


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