This time of year in Nashville we have a lot of foggy mornings. The sky is gray, and it feels like the sky is just a few feet away from you. In a sense, it is.
The world seems to disappear and reappear right before your eyes. Landmarks and skylines disappears.
My drive into Nashville looked like this one morning recently.
It was pretty and quiet.
I think fog has been such a powerful metaphor for how I’ve felt the past 10 years.
I’ve fallen in and out of love. Moved in and out of my parents’ house several times. Dated a bunch. Finally met someone I thought would be perfect for me. Married her and a year later I became a dad. Six months later, the economy took a “downturn,” I lost my job, and we moved in with my parents for a year. I got a job I couldn’t stand, we bought a foreclosure, and then we had another baby. Eventually I quit the job I didn’t like and tried my hand at freelancing full-time. Then we found out we were having a third baby, nearly lost the house more than once, finally landed at another job.
Whoah.
During it all, everything has been up in the air, unclear. I’ve felt like I was on the road, headed… somewhere. At full speed.
And even now, though things aren’t that bad, there’s still uncertainty in the air, and I don’t really know where I am going just yet. You probably don’t, either.
While things grow more stable (wait until the kids are teenagers!) nothing is completely clear, but that’s okay.
I know it is just fog. There are solid objects out there that I have to watch out for, so I use caution.
I just keep my headlights on to help everyone else out.
Be a light in the fog.
