Rain on Snow

Mysterious, Buffalo Road swaddled in gray-white clouds slung low like smoke drifting across a battlefield in wisps. The hurried trip downtown on lunchhour to purchase a ticket for Kiel's Easter visit felt more like some clandestine tryst shrouded in furtive apprehension.

Who would have expected, creeping along 490 hampered by the mist and rain, that an entire skyline of high rise buildings lay in wait just beyond the hill. One encountered only blurry dark shapes constantly disappearing into the thickness of the atmosphere, like watching a herd of elephants in a grove of trees through early dawn duskiness and haze, not sure whether you were really seeing something or if they were just a figment of some surreal dream.

I drove with an unjustified sense of safety based on the myopic bubble of clarity surrounding my car, a sense in many ways the echo of life's journey. How often have I not seen some monstrous event looming in the shadows ahead, obscured by an inadvertent focus on immediate minutiae and wrapped in the mist of reactionary changes?

As the rain forces snow to evaporate in clouds of mist, so often my reaction to moving into a new season of life clouds my ability to see the treasures and value of what lies ahead. Fortunately, today I know the way to the train station, know when to change lanes, when to expect a streetlight to suddenly appear in front of me, liberated from the fog. I can navigate this familiar landscape despite the limited vision.

Just so, when I am navigating life's cloudy landscape, I must trust One who knows the way, One who can tell me when to turn, when to stop, when to go. Clouds caused by my human limitations need not prevent moving forward, so long as I do it in faith, and firmly hand in hand with One intimately familiar with life, One who is not limited by my lack of vision.