The car was decades old when a group of poets, dancers and actors left in it from a university to attend a performance of the great mime, Marcel Marceau.  On the drive to the city, the engine turned over 300,000 miles. All passengers observed a moment of silence.

Marceau’s performance ended late. It was dark and starless on the state highway. A thick fog settled in the valley where they drove. The farther from the city, the denser the fog; the denser the fog, the slower they drove. Eventually, the foreboding conditions forced them to turn off the stereo. They discovered silent prayer and concentration. They weren’t a particularly religious group. A moment of silence was normally about as close as they ever got. That night prayer to God was continuous. At the bottom of a valley, the fog became impenetrable. Inching along in zero visibility, with their headlights useless, and the road imperceptible, the driver opened his car door to watch the double yellow line pass beside them, ensuring they stayed in their lane. It worked. They found their way, made it out of the valley, and safely home.

Ignoring whether or not it was clever to open the car door, this group of bohemians found themselves in a challenging circumstance, and forgetting all coolness, gladly returned to the faiths of their childhoods through prayer.

Let’s Pray: Dear God, for those who’ve wandered from their faith, for those caught in a disorienting fog, or who are lost in the dark, help them find the road again. Amen.

Here’s a Thought: Faith provides bearings in the darkness.