Beautiful Foggy

Sunday morning wake up comes gentle and slow. I open my eyes to February in my bedroom and remember the surprise snow of yesterday, when winter laughed at all the weathermen and reminded us that real winter is just a snowflake away. I’ve been enjoying the pretend-spring we’ve been having these last few days, so the snowflakes shocked me, too. I peak outside and see evidence of yesterday’s surprise before I open the door to whatever lay beyond, whatever God has waiting for me on the other side of that bedroom door.

The windows in the kitchen reveal a fog in the trees at the back of our property that stops me in my bright pink slippers. It looks thick beyond the trees. Unknown and mysterious. And really, really pretty.

Mysterious, unknown, beautiful. All right there beyond my kitchen window.

I step outside in hopes of capturing the beauty of the fog. How pretty to only see what’s just ahead. No more. No less.

And I realize the truth of the fog of the morning. I can see just enough to know where to step. I have exactly all that I need for the next step. No more. No less.

That’s how God leads me lately. He lifts the fog just enough for me to take the next step. No more. No less.

And I realize that His way, this method He uses to lead me, is beautiful too.