Voice in the Fog

Early one June morning, I woke suddenly. Opening one eye, I looked at the clock. 6:20. I didn't need to get up for hours yet! I moaned, rolled over and pulled the pillow over my head. The first week of summer vacation. I could sleep in! What in the world was I doing awake so early!

But try as I may, I could not get back to sleep. I tossed and turned for a bit and finally got up and went into the living room where I began pacing back and forth. I looked out the front window, but a thick fog obscured everything. I could not see Mary's house across the street.


“June gloom” it is called.

On such a gray morning, I should be in bed sleeping! But I felt restless. I paced some more, then looked out the front window again.


Suddenly, I felt the most amazing urge to ride my bike. Not, “I want to go for a ride today.” More like "I need to ride right NOW!"


Mind you, I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. And though I like to ride, the streets around my house were too busy for bike riding. But I felt myself almost pushed out the back door.

I felt so compelled to ride my bike that I pulled on a pair of sweat pants, quickly tucked my nightgown into them, and slipped out the back door barefoot, without even brushing my sleep-tousled hair! All the while, I kept telling myself, This is insane! Someone might see me!


But without looking back, I opened the garage, took my bike down and set off down the drive. Under my breath, I muttered, "Oh God, I hope no one sees me!" I was not even in the habit of walking around the house in my nightgown, let alone riding down the road! But I felt the urge to ride on.


As I reached the end of the driveway, I turned right on the sidewalk without a second thought, and headed up the hill. "At least you could have gone down the hill!" a voice in my head said. But uphill seemed right, so on I pedaled into the mist, thinking that at least the fog is so thick if someone does drive by, they wouldn’t see me!
Halfway up the block, I felt compelled to swerve off the sidewalk and down into the road, though my safety-conscious brain said that was insanely dangerous in this fog. But I did it anyway, pedaling faster and faster.


I hadn't pedaled fifty feet when I saw a baby crawling across the foggy road, clad in nothing but a soggy diaper! My heart jumped into my throat as I came to a squealing halt in shock.


I leapt from the bike, dropping it in the road, and scooped the baby boy up into my arms. And there I stood in the middle of the road, looking all around at the fog, trying to figure out what to do.

Suddenly I heard a car approaching, and then saw the eerie glow of its headlights coming toward us through the fog. In a split-second decision, I hugged the baby tight and ran for the side of the road, leaving my bike lying in the road.


As I stood there shuddering at the thought of what might have been, a tear ran down my cheek. The car sputtered by, missing my bike by a few feet. The driver disappeared into the gloom, unaware that I stood only a few yards away, my hair a mess, my pink cotton nightgown ballooning out of my old faded sweat pants. And for several seconds, I stood there, my knees shaking.


The little guy in my arms reached up a pudgy little hand, his index finger extended, and touched the tear running down my cheek. I hugged him closer and kissed the top of his little head. I instinctively swung him around onto my left hip, still holding him close, and hurried out into the road to get my bike.

Back on the sidewalk, I wondered what in the world to do next. I called out into the fog, "Hello? Is anyone there?" But the mist muffled my voice and no answer came. I started up the street, going house to house looking for any sign of life, and soon found a first-floor apartment door ajar.


Looking around again, I rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. I knocked loudly on the door, causing it to swing farther open, and called out, "Hello-o-o....? Is anybody home?"


After several seconds a young woman came to the door, wiping sleep from her eyes and muttering under her breath as she tied a belt around her robe. But as she came in sight of the open living room door and saw me standing there with her baby, she came suddenly wide awake and cried out, "Oh my God! What are you doing with my baby?!"


I quickly handed him to her, explaining that I had found him crawling out in the street. She said, "Oh my God!" and quickly looked him over to be sure he was okay before hugging him so tight he started to cry.


Then she looked over his head at me, and actually saw me for the first time, looking from my mussed up hair down to my nightgown, baggy sweats and bare feet, her eyes widening. And suddenly I was remembered how dreadful I looked, self-consciously putting my hand up to push back my unkempt hair.

I quickly tried to explain my unseemly appearance, but she stopped me, putting her hand out to touch my arm. "It's okay," she said. And then looking down into her baby's face, she started to cry, and trembling, she said, "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! …. Oh my God! My husband must have not closed the door all the way when he left for work! ...Oh my God! How can I ever thank you enough?!"

I told her, "Just keep on hugging that baby." I gave her a quick hug and turned back toward the sidewalk as she closed the door behind me. I kicked back the kickstand and just stood there in awe, holding my bike and trembling.


Looking up into the fog, I whispered, "Oh God, thank you so much for allowing me to be your servant." 


And then I slowly turned my bike around and walked slowly back home, too shaken to ride.


God does work in the most amazing ways and can use even the most reluctant helper if they just listen with their heart. I promise you that.


Nothing short of a miracle could get me out of bed that early on a foggy June morning, let alone drag me out into the public streets in my nightgown and bare feet! I know it could only be the gentle calling God's "still, small voice."






Liz Carson Rosas
5 May 2009