Clarity.

This morning I woke up at 5:30 am and it was just as painful as it sounds. An hour later, I was driving north on the I-15 with two girls and four suitcases in the car, Christmas music playing softly on the radio. It was dark--pitch black--like the middle of the night.

I squinted to see the road in my headlights and took deep breaths to try to clear my foggy brain. I wasn't sleepy at all, but my bones were tired and my eyes were droopy and my stomach was growling because it was too early to eat anything.

As we drove, the road was swallowed up whole by a heavy blanket of fog. It was beyond dark. The signs above the freeway were covered by mist, the tail-lights of other cars were gauzy in the haze. There was no way to escape the suffocating gray walls that crowded us, no way to see ahead. Just as the fog began to lift, snow flurries came down, so dry that they just swirled on the road, making the lines unclear and the road seem uncertain.

At 7:30, I waved goodbye at the airport and began driving again. Where was the sun? If I was up this early, I at least wanted to see the sun rise. But it was dark and hazy, and so I lost hope and reentered the fog to make my way home. I cranked up the Killers (I'm obsessed) so loud that my windows were rattling and I couldn't even hear my own voice singing along as I cruised through the misty darkness.

As I came around the mountain, I gasped and stopped singing. Unfolding before me was a golden valley, glowing with light. The sun shone through the ethereal clouds, and I think it was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a while, because I just stared ahead in silence and marveled at the sight. My path was illuminated as far as I could see.



When the road seems so terribly foggy, so dark, so confusing and unclear, sometimes I feel panicked and scared because I can't see very far ahead. But eventually, the light breaks through and the entire way ahead is set ablaze with exquisite clarity.