Tonight is Christmas Eve. I awoke today having a pity party because I have to work and … my office is an hour from our home. On top of that, the weather prediction for today is a 100% chance of heavy rain. I have commuted back and forth to this job in heavy rain. It is never anything less than a white-knuckle drive, as I travel almost 40 miles, about 30 of them via an Interstate that includes a tunnel accessed by two bridges on one side and one bridge on the other. Traffic is usually heavy, populated randomly by examples of people who don’t know how to drive in that.
Checking the weather on my way out of the house and praying, I noted that though it had rained most of the night, the rain was not falling at that hour and probably would not recommence during my commute. Hallelujah!
However . . . most of my route was covered by impenetrable fog. I am already a bit OCD about the onramp by our house, as it is uphill, with a short opportunity at the end to either enter traffic or stop (and traffic is usually bumper to bumper there at 5:30 AM). Due to it being Christmas Eve, traffic volume was negligible, and I got on without experiencing anything fearful. Thank You, Lord!
I quickly realized that this was going to be a morning when everyone kept precisely to the speed limit though they push it upwards almost 10mph most other days.
I found a truck cruising in the center lane and fell in behind him for about the next 20 miles. I could make out his outline and follow him as the lanes twisted and turned on the approach to the tunnel and beyond. Thank You, Lord!
Sometimes life is like that. Sometimes someone else gives us a good example to follow. We can move ahead in the light surrounding them as well as the light surrounding us.
However, as I got off onto the state road in Newport News, things became spookier. That road is lined with businesses, but they were not yet open, and I could not see them this morning. There was no light except from the occasional streetlight. The fog swirled around me. I was on my own.
It was then that I remembered the old adage, “Don’t overdrive your headlights in the fog. And don’t even think of using your brights. They don’t work against impenetrable fog.”
I slowed down and kept to a speed where I could see what lay ahead. At one point, I was the only light on the road in both directions.
Sometimes life is like that. Sometimes there is no one there to be the example. No one but the Lord, and you can’t see Him. Sometimes you have to slow down and wait to make a move till you see the direction that move will take.
Finally, I pulled off the state road onto the road that leads through woods into federal land. Our base is about five miles off the beaten path. This road was lovely today leading as it does through the Yorktown National Battlefield. The fog swirled and lent a sense of history to this venerable old site, but it was also treacherous and creepy there. I thought I had memorized where the twists and turns are. I was wrong.
I ended up advancing very slowly indeed, constantly waiting for my low beam headlights to illuminate the next few feet in front of me. At one point, the first deer that ever ran in front of my car on this land did so, and I was able to brake with lots of distance to spare due to my slow progress. Thank You, Lord.
Life is sometimes like that, too. Sometimes we grope our way along the path. Yet the Lord is still with us, and all is well. He is the ultimate source of all light. Praise His Name.
John 8:12, “Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.