“Here,” I navigated from the passenger seat, gesturing to the off-ramp for a scenic overlook along the Blue Ridge Mountains. Rain continued to pelt the glassy interstate roads as my husband guided our Toyota into the parking lot, every spot available on this chilly, rainy evening.
It was early November before the time change. Fall’s colors had peaked later than expected after unprecedented months of rain. I was determined to see the leaves before the season’s finale and the onslaught of winter. I composed a few pictures, drenched by the downpour and racing the setting light.
The five of us were the only souls at the overlook, as a heavy fog whited-out any chance at a view and rain threatened anyone else away.
The next morning, the view would be clear, and this same scenic overlook would buzz with activity. But this evening, I stood, ankle-deep in a puddle, bracing my camera beneath my umbrella even as the rain gushed sideways against me.
I showed up hoping to see even a fleeting view of autumn color–and for the unique beauty that only fog can create. My family, waiting a few yards away inside our warm, dry car, might not have understood. Other folks driving by must have wondered why a lone car was stopped at a foggy overlook. But I saw past their dismissal of the scene before me.
Fog has a way of isolating the closest object. Honing in on the lone tree before me, I noticed its stand-alone beauty against the backdrop of fog, its edges a silhouette of color against the otherwise blurry sky. Hours later, visitors–my family included–would flock to this very spot, looking beyond that tree to the bigger picture. But when I returned, I still appreciated the detail of that tree, and I remembered the journey I took to see it, the puddles I waded though and the feel of the cold rain against my fingers.
I tend to pray for the big picture. I’m a detail-oriented person, and left to my own, I’d jump in to piece them together if I only knew the big picture. But God doesn’t want me to work like that. He needs me to need Him in this journey. He needs me to do the work of showing up, opening my heart to the one thing He is choosing to spotlight this time, the very next thing along my path.
What if, instead of waiting for the grand view, we could listen and be obedient to the next clear directive? With one piece of clarity, He gives us the gift of direction and affirms our continued need for His presence.
In my current season, I’m standing before a great fog, and God is waiting for my obedience. My obedience comes in accepting this one beautiful detail before me as enough. While God has the ability to put on a spectacular autumn show, the one fiery tree is enough to warrant my undivided attention. With the promise He brings through a single detail, He reveals my next step. It is up to me to listen and notice.
“But everything exposed by the light becomes visible – and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.” (Ephesians 5:13, NIV).