Facing the Fog
Yesterday I woke to a dense fog clinging to the windows and obscuring my view of the garden. It made going back to bed after getting the kids off to school seem like a viable option, but the day’s activities beckoned and I was soon in my car heading north for a client. Whilst driving carefully through the haze, winding up the RM2222 near Mount Bonnell, I experienced a severe case of déjà vu.
In an instant I was transported back to South Africa; to the road I would travel home from work in Umhlanga, up Fields Hill, to our garden cottage in Hillcrest. Furls of fog would regularly envelop this part of the M13 making driving difficult, but they would also signal to me that I was almost home after a long day.
Almost home.
The thought made me cry. Silent tears, as I let my defenses down in the safety of my car. This Christmas marks two years since I was home. Two years since I last saw my family. Two years of living in the uncertainty of a pandemic. Two years of hoping we’d soon be able to put arms around tangible necks. Almost home.
As the fog of my flashback cleared, I turned off the radio and drove the rest of the way in silence. I let the stories of variants and travel bans, quarantines and cancelled plans sink in. I made space for the nostalgic thoughts of a simpler time. I allowed memories to surface of the Comrades Marathon, the Midlands Meander, and the friends scattered from Cowies Hill to Kloof. And I sat for a moment in the pain of my grief.
Seen and known.
By the time I arrived at my destination I was able to let go of this untimely intrusion and focus on my day, but not without first sending a message to a dear friend that still lives in Hillcrest. Without mentioning the fog or why she had been brought to mind, I let her know that I was thinking of her. Imagine my surprise when she returned my message with a short note of gratitude and a photo of her son playing cricket at school… in the fog!
It was a reminder to me that we are all seen. No matter the fog of our grief or our geography, our circumstances or our challenges, we are seen and known and loved by a God who cares about the road ahead even if we can’t see it. To all of you weary of waiting to go home, take heart.