Have you ever been in a fog?

I’ve been there, slogging my way through, not sure what I’m thinking, not sure what life’s all about. I compare it a bit to stupor. There’s this vague sense that something’s not quite right, or a memory has more meaning but we can’t mine it.

I had one of those benign memories–one I’d repeated to others in detail, thinking it a happy memory. But one day the fog lifted. The sun shone. And I realized that the memory was anything but benign. It was something I’d placed parameters on in my mind, making it palatable to me. When I stopped a moment and thought about it in light of the new realization, I grieved. With the parameters removed, the memory’s starkness glared at me.

I can’t remember ever crying that hard. A weight shifted onto my chest, burying me in grief. I gulped in sobs. And I prayed. And others prayed.

Then I saw Him. The Light shining after the fog. Jesus entered into the memory, scooped me up, held me to Himself. I forgot the fog in the moment, forgot the weight on my chest, forgot the grief. In a very real way, He re-made the memory, reminding me of His sovereignty over all–even difficult, foggy memories.

I pray the same for you today. That in the midst of a painful memory, you’ll be able to see Jesus there, grieving alongside, holding you. May His light burn away the pain. Even today.