The Fog will Lift

It’s quiet. No one is up yet. The fog is trying to lift off the valley floor and that should bring more clarity to my day. My mind and spirit have become so much more powerful in fighting the thoughts of fear and frustration. I have never felt this way before.

I’m speaking more publically about my diagnosis and a new fondness I have for God. Some understand and others look at me as though I’m crazy. It’s the same way we look at our children when they find a new boyfriend or girlfriend. We’re happy for them but wonder if this time will really last.

I try to find words to wrap around the thoughts and idea’s I receive from Elohim but can’t grasp the right language or phrase to make it understandable. I wish I could translate the freedom this diagnosis of cancer has given me but even that sounds crazy. I hold back some idea’s for fear my new understanding will come back to haunt me when things get even tougher. There is this growing sense that what I see today is so small, so tiny that it’s hardly worth concerning myself over.

I fight the temptation to be sensible about all of this. I find sensible has no meaning to my heart, spirit, soul or mind except to dull it into a place of acceptability to others. As I sit here in the fog this morning, I remember a picture in my mind of a lake, a boat and a water skier. I am on the skis, God is driving the boat, and He keeps screaming back at me to hang on cause the ride is going to be amazing. At first I’m afraid but now, since I have not fallen yet, I’m beginning to believe Him. As I look on the shore I see no one. As my eyes scan the lake it is clear of other boats and skiers. This ride is about Rick and God and right now we are having the time of our lives.

See, if you wait long enough the fog will begin to lift.

2 Comments

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  Lahna Rasmussen March 6, 2010 at 10:25 pm

  Interesting that you mentioned “fog.” I used that word in one of my posts on Feb. 18th. Your description was so much better then mine. Your uplifting expression was so much better then mine. My “fog” keeps coming back, blurring the reality of God's beauty, His love, His plan for my life…and for two of my children. So hard to be a parent of children who were pre-natally injured by drugs. God's love, though, is not blurred by fog, only mine.
• 
  Lahna Rasmussen March 7, 2010 at 12:25 am

  Interesting that you mentioned “fog.” I used that word in one of my posts on Feb. 18th. Your description was so much better then mine. Your uplifting expression was so much better then mine. My “fog” keeps coming back, blurring the reality of God's beauty, His love, His plan for my life…and for two of my children. So hard to be a parent of children who were pre-natally injured by drugs. God's love, though, is not blurred by fog, only mine.