Early in the morning on Wednesday, December 16, Deano, my brother-in-law, died of a heart attack. Pam was there with him when he died. I can't imagine how difficult this is for her right now. Chris and I left Thursday morning before the snowfall to be with her for the funeral. The trip was treacherous for a while as the snow covered the already cold highway, but thankfully we made it safely. Friday was the service, and then we headed to my mom's, who is only 5 hours away, since we were driving two vehicles home and I'm a wimp about these things.
I was driving the truck that Chris bought from his uncle, a vehicle I'd never driven before, and Chris followed in the car. I was leading and very nervous at first. As we travelled I became more comfortable with the truck and felt a little more at ease. We were cruising along through Greensboro and almost to Virginia when we hit the fog. No one was ahead of me at that point, and I felt encased by the cloud and the darkness. We were in unfamiliar territory at this point too, with a GPS that was malfunctioning. I strained to see the road ahead. The fog would lift some, but it always returned. God mercifully sent people to drive in front of me. As long as I could see their tail lights, I felt o.k. I prayed a lot---really a lot. When we stopped for gas Chris led, and I felt better. We drove in the fog in the dark for 2 1/2 hours, and we finally ran out of it 10 miles before reaching my mom's. How thankful I was!!!
As I was lost in the fog, I had lots of time to think. I thought about how much our lives are like the fog. I can't see what's ahead, and I'm not sure of the road. If there is a light in front of me to show me the way, then I feel more confident, even though I still don't really know what's ahead. The Bible says that God's Word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path. Like the tail lights of the car in front of me, it can show me the next step in this crazy life.
This has been a year of deaths for me--my dad, parents of friends, relatives. I don't know why this shocks me so much. No one gets out of here alive. We start the process the moment we are conceived, and yet when the time comes it seems unfair, surreal. Like driving in the fog, we don't see what is ahead, what is around us, where the road bends. God says that our lives are like a vapor--like fog--that disappears quickly. That doesn't seem true until you are facing the death of another loved one. I can only imagine the fog that my mom and now Pam are wading through. But God is always so faithful to lead us when we rely on Him. We just need to remember that when the fog is closing in and everything is dark.