Living in the Fog

The fog is finally receding again.  It lasted longer than I like, and little wisps remain around my horizon, but sunny skies are returning at last.


I've been sick for far too long this time.  Weeks of annoying asthma issues collided with a nasty virus to produce a sinus infection that just wouldn't quit, and then bronchitis and walking pneumonia.  I'm no longer taking the gift of breath for granted.  Restful sleep is still a precious commodity.  I don't yet have enough breath or stamina to work a full day--maybe next week.

I've spent too much of my adult life in the fog of fibromyalgia.  Gradually, I've come up with a rather tenuous mixture of medications and lifestyle that have sustained me in a state of near-remission for the past few years.  Unfortunately, an illness like this most recent one can trigger those old fibromyalgia symptoms to resurface.  I know one thing--I don't ever want to go there again!

I'll admit that I felt more than a little panicked the other night when I recognized those insidious symptoms returning to torment me.  I hate the unsteadiness, the stumbling gait, the inability to think clearly, the impaired memory, the slurred speech and garbled sentences, the looks of concern on the faces of the people around me.  For a long time, those were everyday manifestations of my fibromyalgia; I really, really don't want to go there again!

Bill reminded me that I'm still recovering from a different kind of illness.  My chest still rattles.  Fatigue is a normal part of any respiratory condition.

I've been taking good care of myself, forcing fluids, taking my meds, staying home from work, resting. allowing Bill and the kids to do much of the cooking and cleaning.  Sometimes I feel pretty good, and sometimes, not so much.  But, fibromyalgia taught me one thing:  I can't stop living just because I have to live in the fog.  When I'm feeling up to it, and as long as my antibiotics ensure that I won't infect the people around me, I am driven to do just a few of the things that are most important to me.  I have to keep going, or risk returning to that pea soup fog of fibromyalgia. 

When I think about it, though, I realize that all of us are living in a fog of a different kind.  Now, as we live here on Earth, we are unable to see God clearly and directly; instead, we can only see him imperfectly, as if we are looking at his reflection in a poorly polished metal mirror.  Only in heaven will we be able to know God to the fullest extent possible.  For now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.  (1 Corinthian 13: 12)  But, just as my fibromyalgia symptoms can't stop me from doing the important things I need to do, my inability to see God clearly through the fog of my human existence will not stop me from trying to do the things he has called me to do.  I know that He sees everything clearly, even when I can't.  So, I can be confident that he will continue to show me where to go and what to do.  Even in the fog.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29: 11