One of my friends was employed as the captain of a yacht for ten years. He shared the experience of what it's like to be at sea, a speck in the middle of the ocean, and totally encompassed by fog. The sea was totally calm. There was a consistent blanket of white all around the boat. One had to rely totally on the compass to navigate.

"But after hours of being 'lost' in this soup, I began to doubt the compass as my only true reference point," he said. "I began to wonder if it was working correctly, if I was indeed going in the right direction. Had it ever failed me before? No. But when I lost sight of the horizon, of any land mass, of the stars, and all I had was a magnet with a needle leading the way, I felt doubt creep in"

Spiritually, I knew exactly what he meant. There have been so many times when my life was smoothly sailing along, and then, without warning, the fog descended and all familiar landmarks disappeared. My prayers didn't seem to go anywhere. Reading my Bible didn't bring me comfort. My Christian friends didn't respond in a way that helped. My spouse didn't understand a thing I said, and thus tried to fix me. The fog was dense and white. Sound reverberated off the caverns of my soul, distorted and hollow. There was nothing substantial to hold on to, to guide me. All I could rely on was the faithfulness of my God. The God who promised to never leave me or forsake me. The God who holds me in the palm of his hand. The God who I can rely on to be my reference point even when the doubt creeps in.

For the past two months, I have been in a fog. David's coronary bypass surgery made our family's "normal" life schedule go dead in the water. Ian, Aaron and I were suddenly faced with the reality that David was in a life-threatening situation. I found myself unable to read, write, or focus on much more than the day to day reality of doctors, hospitals, recovery, and rehab. Exhausted, I began to emotionally isolate myself, not having the energy for long conversations or interaction with friends and family. I couldn't trust myself for reference points. To stay grounded I had to trust God, the one who had never failed me yet, to be my reference point.

I don't enjoy being in the fog, of feeling directionless, of having few if no answers. But each time I'm there, I learn so much about myself, the body of Christ, and the steadfast love of God. The outpouring of love and encouragement before, during, and after David's surgery has been amazing. The youth group at First Baptist Church of Scottsdale, AZ, embraced our kids. We've all grown closer to David's parents who provided housing, meals and transportation during our stay. And my heart has found time to begin to heal from the burden of grief and loss I've been carrying for over a year.

I wouldn't necessarily say that the fog has lifted yet. There are still many unanswered questions in my life. But God's presence has been strong and steady. And perhaps I'm learning that sometimes . . . that's enough.