There's a girl. She's not yet sure where she is or where she's going. She walks about her daily life, not realizing that her surroundings are getting more dark, more dense. All of a sudden she stops because she realizes that she cannot see anything. She feels like she is further behind then she ever was. "Did I do this to myself?" she screams. All she hears is silence. No one answers. She's alone. It's dark, foggy, and lonely. "Will I ever get out?" This cry comes from deep inside. The 5 words are full of the unknown, full of fear, full of grief. She looks around, scared to take a step, not knowing which way is north, south, east, or west. The thickness of the fog weighs heavy on her heart, on her soul, on her body. She's not sure if she could even walk if she wanted to. The silence is broken by voices. Voices she does not know. Voices that try to lead her in a direction. She twitches, wanting so hard to follow. The voices seem so believable, even though she knows they are not from God. They are seductive in nature, their tones are smooth and sensual. The voices know they are close to breaking her will. So they get louder. Soon, it's a steady stream of words, urging her to live the lifestyle "everyone" wants. "It's all about sex, drugs, and alcohol," one says. "Get your own way, make it yours, no one can tell you it's not good," another one says. She puts her hands up to her ears, wanting to drown out the words but she can't forget them, she can't pretend she didn't hear it. She wants it so bad but that it hurts. She forgets the sunshine, the refreshing breeze, the meadows she used to skip around in, the trees she used to climb, the trails she used to hike. It's all gone now. It's dark and it's dangerous and she is at a stand still.
"WAIT," a voice comes out of nowhere. The other voices do not silence, but they seem to become background noise. "Wait for what?" she cries. Then she begins to hear what is promised outside of the fog. "One step away." That's all? Just one step? Which way? "WAIT."
So she's there, standing, asking for hope, faith, and strength to wait. Her eyes and ears are open to the hand, the voice, pointing her in the direction that takes her out, that takes her further. She's poised, knowing that as soon as she takes that step and sees the sunshine, she will go running. But she takes this time to learn, to grow, to breath deeply, to get her muscles ready.
Waiting is hard, but running blindly is worse.
