"We can't see where we're going!" He shouted, very excitedly. "School might not be there anymore!"
And along the journey we crossed rivers of crocodiles, hopping across their heads. We surfed over lava on our diamond surfboards. We used our swords to cut down snakes hanging from trees. We flew over waterfalls on our magic carpets. Oh, the enjoyment of the adventure of a foggy school run! And I made the most of every second, for in a few years there will be no-one who will want to carry a magic carpet on their back and stash magic spray in our pockets for when we are burnt by lava.
And I realised that my life is a foggy one too. The uncertainty of the journey ahead makes it hard to walk into. I can't see the end. I don't even know if it's there. I can't even make out the next step. It's dense with the fog of the unknown, and that is sometimes heart-pumpingly scary.
Yet for each river of crocodiles or lake of lava that I face (hopefully figuratively speaking, but you never know...), I will be given all I need. I choose to walk this path because I know that for every step of the way, my God won't fail me but will always be enough for me (and more). He is my hope-giver in the face of the unknown. He is my deep well of joy in the midst of stomach-lurching anxiety. He is my torch, showing me the next step and the next step. He is my storehouse of equipment for the journey. He goes ahead of me, and that means that when I step out I'm going to be safe. It doesn't mean the road ahead is easy, just that when I cling on I can learn to put one foot in front of the other, knowing that He follows me with goodness and mercy.
As I left my little adventurer at school and turned to walk home, the fog lifted and the sun shone it's rays of hope and I remembered the words of this old hymn:
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine with ten thousand besides.
Great is His faithfulness.
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