I haven't the foggiest

This weekend I was in St. Louis for the First Robotics World Championships. My son's team had qualified earlier in the spring and was there to compete against hundreds of other teams.
Friday evening I walked across town to catch a Cardinals game. It had rained throughout the day and a veil of moisture hung just above the city. Walking down 8th Street and glancing to my left, the image above came into view. The eerie appearance of the Gateway Arch reaching up into the evening sky and fading into a cloud, obscuring the peak from view.
Isn't life like that sometimes? We see, but not fully, wondering what lies just out of view.
What will happen tomorrow? Next week? Next year? If we are honest, often our answer is, "I haven't the foggiest idea." We like to pretend like we know, don't we? We make plans. Set agendas. Build our own little empires with the surety that what we want will emerge from the fog.
The reality is, more often than not, we don't know what lies behind the clouded veil of tomorrow. Despite our best American can-doism, we can never fully manufaction what's there. We think we know and sometime our assumptions ring true. But not always.
The phone rings. Your mother is gone.
The doctor stands before you. There is a mass the size of melon. Weeks, maybe months.
But the fog doesn't just veil negative moments. It's not always a monster or doom hidden just outside of view.
Opportunities unveiled at just the right moment.
Unexpected friendships emerging from nowhere.
Hope in a place that seemed void of any.

Life has taught me, and continues to teach me there's nothing wrong with not having the foggiest. Despite my best efforts to control life, life will not be controlled. It will take its own twists and turns, often without my permission, without seeking my input, or even without warning.
I am learning to live in the fog. To embrace the mystery. To enjoy the unknown and find shalom, even in the midst of uncertainty.
The fog has taught me, maybe even forced me, to be present in the moment. When you can't see behind the veil, you look at what is seen. You slow down. You become more aware of the little details often overlooked.
Driving on a foggy morning causes me to reduce my speed, focus on the path of road before me, and remain alert for the slightest hint of a headlight or car. Less distracted by the radio and a host of other things clamoring for my attention on a clear day, the fog demands my complete attention.
Life in the fog requires being present in the moment. When I can't see behind the veil, I focus on what lies before me, knowing something unexpected could emerge from the cloud any second.

The arch stretched into the sky, fading into the unknown. Sometimes life does the same...