Another dense, foggy day. Everything seems unsubstantial. How strange the world looks, so soft and fuzzy, when I know from experience that it is hard and firm. I hear cars inch past on the road, drivers hesitant to go fast in case a biker or an animal is ahead. My faith is sometimes like that—there are times when I know it is strong and substantial, but other times I feel it becoming gauzy and slick, almost slipping from my grasp as I despair or fret. It is then I most need your help, Dear Father, to assure me you are there with me, not only in the fog, but particularly in the fog! Please help me to trust you when I can no longer see you, hear your voice, or feel your presence. Be with me as I grope in the fog; may I draw comfort from your strength that is always extended to me, even in the gray fog of doubt.