Lately there has been a bit of a fog over Sonoma county. A heavy mist that makes the mountains look like mashed potatoes covering an unhealthy portion of moldy meatloaf.
Last week, I was driving back over Sonoma Mountain to Sonoma valley from Rohnert Park around 1 A.M. As I drove, I hit patches of fog so dense I could not see through them.
It made me think about life. Mostly my life, but opinions, stories and perspectives I have heard in the past few weeks. I have spent much of the last two years feeling lost and confused. Feeling uncertain about what my future brings. Sure, I know God holds it all in his hands and that the right opportunities will be available at the right time.
That does not make me any less scared. Because I am a person, and we are afraid of what we do not know. One’s twenties are a hard time. So many of my college-graduated friends are questioning what they are doing, where they’re going, and if they love what they are doing.
Some are incredibly successful and satisfied. Some are struggling through grad school. Some have no course, yet. It’s really quite beautiful. We all fit in this range of making our passions work for us. Some of us know what those passions are and are able to follow them wholeheartedly. And some are still discovering what those are, what it means to be a person living in this crazy world of ours.
The fog over Sonoma county is representative of the fog in my life. But for the first time in quite awhile, dismal weather has not shifted my perspective on life. The low-hanging mists, the clouds up above, the distant mountains, they all give me hope.
They give me hope because maybe tomorrow or the next day the fog will lift. The clouds will pass. The mountains will stand tall and proud, with the sun beaming down on them. And just as the fog lifts, so will my uncertainty.