My little family and I once lived in a trailer house that sat right next to an industrial plant.  Many mornings we would arise and find ourselves enshrouded in a fog.  I’m not talking about being drowsy. it was a soup-thick fog which was generated by the plant. 

It was an, “I can’t find my hand in front of my face” kind of a fog and we lived in it and breathed of it.  I was told that they manufactured formaldehyde there.  So, if there is a plus to this, it’s that I won’t need to be embalmed for my funeral.

To drive in it was impossibly difficult.  But you know what that’s like.  You have had to move through your own fog experiences.  And some of those experiences have had nothing to do with suspended water droplets. 

Ben just lost his job.  He was already behind with his bills.  The rent is due, and his wife has some big medical bills.  He just can’t see the way forward.

Ken just learned that his son is a frequent meth user.  Ken had no idea how it happened, nor what to do to fix him.

Annie’s husband was in his recliner watching TV.  She returned from the store, and he was still there – but a heart attack had stolen his life.  After she buried him, she spoke of a numbness that gripped her heart and soul. 

The trauma of the moment numbs us and fogs our senses, and we run the risk of having it become an enduring way of life. 

When trauma comes, we can find our way forward in much the same way we drive through the morning fog.  

I pump the brakes and slow the car down.  I turn on the headlights so that they illuminate the road ahead of me.  I become more alert and depend on my ears more than usual.  I might not be able to see a vehicle passing me, but I may be able to hear it. 

And though I usually don’t appreciate my wife’s directions when I drive, I lean on her to help me be aware.  She watches for wandering deer and looks for turns that need to be made.

So how does that work with traumatic loss? 

– Slow down.  Crisis tends to make us want to go faster as if by doing so we can get through it all more quickly.  It doesn’t work that way.  Slow down.  Be deliberate.   The prophet said, “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength” – Isaiah 40:31 – KJV

– Use your headlights.  Psalm 119:105 says, “Your word is a lamp to walk by and a light to illumine my path.”  The Psalmist spoke of the Bible of course.  He tells us that it has the incredible ability to illuminate the obscure path before us, to give us insight and wisdom so that we don’t hit a tree or run off into ditch. 

– Listen more intently.  I tend to keep myself so busy that it’s hard to hear the voice of God.   The fog of trauma can be a blessing in that it forces me to slow down and tune my ears to what God is doing or may be saying to me.  James wrote in his epistle, “Draw near to God and he will draw near to you” – James 4:8.  He is always available to us, but we need to move toward Him especially in times of trauma. 

– Lean on others for help.  It’s easier to drive through the morning fog when you have someone with you to help.  Unfortunately, trauma tends to cause us to withdraw, but what we need to do is engage, to draw from and lean on one another.  This is something we are expected to do.  Paul wrote, “Carry one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2)

Do these things and it won’t be long before the sun breaks through and burns off the fog. 

A PRAYER: Lord, please prepare me for the fog to come.

This has been Jim Johnson and pickleheavenpress.com

May the grace of our Lord be with you.

Scripture references are from the NETBible ® unless otherwise noted.