Surrender: It's a Game Changer

Dear Diary,

I know it's been three whole years since I've last written. I mostly write on insignificant topics that I can fully find meaning in.

[Go ahead, take another look at this diary. If it's your first time here, I suggest starting with Half Full & Half Empty, IMG! or Dressing Room Moments II. Really, there's not a bad post in this diary, so go ahead and start at the beginning. wink! ]

The following post has been on my heart for a long time, and this is the best way I know how to share it. It is a more serious topic, but also helpful. I hope.

***************************

God is in control.

My faith tells me this.

My Bible tells me this. (Just ask Moses, David, or Paul.)

But am I really giving control over to Him?
When I am put to the test, relinquishing control of a situation becomes a wrestling match with God himself. A match I’m not going to win. (And I would forgo a lot of pain if I just realized that at the starting bell.)

God is in control whether I give it over to Him or not. I’m kidding myself if I think otherwise.

This lesson never has been more blatantly demonstrated in my life until my third child was born almost 12 weeks premature, at 2 pounds 1 oz. Three weeks earlier, my body started rejecting the pregnancy in the form of preeclampsia symptoms, landing me in the hospital with a forthright doctor spewing a list of all the possible things that could go wrong if my baby girl was born during that crisis. Praise God she stayed in the womb another three weeks.

I don’t want to focus on the drama of having a baby born that early. Truly, that is a story I tell only when asked. Each one of us has unique come-to-God moments. My focus is not the specifics of what I faced during those three months, but how I responded and what I learned. He is a God who gives and takes away, but He also is a God who always loves, who is always in control. (Just ask Job.)

I listened to Twila Paris’ song “God is in Control” daily while driving home from NICU hospital visits. I would blast that Greatest Hits CD, song #1, and belt it like no one was listening. It was a way to release the feelings of fear that I had bottled up that day amidst the tubes and wires, beeping screens, basinets, and sick babies of the NICU. Driving home in the darkness of the evening, the song brought me to a place where faith met reality: God was in control, I was not.

The fate of my baby, whether she was healthy or ill, lived or died, was not in my hands.

I could not muster control,

I could not conjure it,

I could not create it.  

My feelings could be summed up in one word: helpless.

Completely and utterly.

Twila’s opening line, “This is no time for fear. This is a time for faith and determination.” was a perfect antidote for my emotions. She was a cheerleader to buoy my spirit, squelch the fear, and keep hope alive.

God is in control…God is in control…my nightly mantra as I put miles between me and the hospital, and put blind trust in those giving her the complex care she needed.

So why didn’t I feel any better? Why didn’t I go through my days with confidence and true joy, knowing I had an all powerful God who could do almighty deeds, who loved me and would not run out on me during my crisis?

God is in control. Yes, but what about (fill in the blank).

God is in control. Yes, but I just need to (fill in the blank).

God is in control. Yes, but if I only had (fill in the blank).

It is the “Yes, buts” that is our undoing --a sure way to keep the stress level high, to lie awake in the dark in a disheveled bed regretting the past or scheming for the future, to let the devil get a hold of our pride and tell us it is our job to fix the problem.

God is in control PERIOD. 

Stop. 

Zip it. 

No more talking.

Get rid of the “Yes, buts” and accept His control.

Acceptance is a type of surrender.

It wasn’t until I accepted the outcome of His control that I found peace.
Even in war, peace follows surrender.

You want peace that passes all understanding in any crisis? It’s “only” a two-step process: 

1) Acknowledge that our sovereign God is in control and you are not.

2) Accept the outcome of His control, no matter what it is. No matter what your wildest imagination or nightmare scenario is, put up your white flag and surrender.

Like I say, it is a process. It happens differently for everyone.

Weeks and weeks of intensive care visits gave me the time to finally stop wrestling and relinquish.

I’d been pinned to the mat and cried Uncle “Abba!”

I resigned myself to what God would ordain.

I let go.

And it was a game changer.

There is one thing that has always been true.
It will be true forever.
God is in control!

******************

Until next time,
LJ

A Very Big Girl Day

Dear Diary,
My oldest girl is growing up. 
She had a Very Big Girl Day today. 

Filling some big shoes 13 years ago.

She had the day off of school --the second day off to be precise, thanks to another polar bear vortex --and, being the tough Midwesterners we are, we decided it was an opportunity to head out the frosty door and take care of some Big Girl business.

First, she dropped off her first job application.  I sat on a hard bench in the elevator lobby and watched her head up to floor #3 of the office complex with application in hand.
Without me.
I knew if I went with I'd just meddle; I Really Wanted To Go Orchestrate Her Success Myself.

Next, with Certificate of Completion in hand, we went to the DMV for a new DL.  Yup.  Her first driver's license.
Trying hard to suppress flashbacks of my own failed first road test, I sat in a blue plastic chair nervously waiting for her return. 


I had given her permission to Fail.  Does that make me a bad mother? 
I prayed for her.  Any question about bad mothering was now redeemed.

She passed, of course.  The chain of road test failure going back one generation had been broken!
We admired her shiny plastic ticket-to-freedom.  Nice picture, too.

Next we hit the road again, this time to the local drug store for a valid passport photo.  My Big Girl is going to Europe this summer.  Without her mommy.  Who has never been overseas.
Rats.

Add the 23 letters from colleges and universities that she received within one week of her published PSAT scores, and have I painted a clear picture of my girl getting Soooo Big?

Yet somehow I get the feeling she wasn't the only one who put on her Big Girl Pants today.

Feelin' small and humble,
LJ

My Ducks and Monkeys

Dear Diary,

I like having my little duckies in a neat row. 

I get deep satisfaction from those days when I can review my appointments and to-do list and systematically check off each item from those lists after its fulfillment.

• Lunches bagged for three kids:  check
• 7:30 band drop off:  check
• Walk three miles: check
• Side trip to peruse the clearance at Kohls: check
• Various household duties:  check, check, check, aaaaand check
• Pickup from volleyball practice: check
• Fix dinner -- and make it nutritious: check(ish)
• Bake zucchini bread: check
• Carpool to high school evening meeting: check

There are always things accomplished in between the listed items, and sometimes they even get written down and checked off simultaneously, just for the superficial satisfaction of doing so.

It gives me the allusion that I am in control. 

The luxury of free time does exist, about an hour or so before bed. 
Usually it is nothing preplanned; just a part of my day when I don't follow a list. 

I can follow my own whim.

At dinner my husband will usually say, "Whatcha got planned for tonight?"
Nothing.
Not a thing! 
Yay me!
It is a time for me to relish a book, write in my Not-So-Secret Diary, or sit down to my crochet-and-TV nights that will start up as the weather turns colder. 

Heaven forbid I should have a ducky step outta line; an unpleasant little surprise during my day that disrupts the disciplined march/waddle of accomplishments.

A sick child,
a stressful phone call,
a sore back,
an empty jar of peanut butter.

I am a big girl.  I know not every day will be ideal.  I know that I am not in control.  (In fact, Twila Paris' song "God is in Control" has been blasted in my car or home many a frustrating day.)

I just really, really appreciate the days when life is good and my ducks are in a row.

I also realize how boring life would be if it was just a continuous line of ducks. Throw a monkey into the line and watch how lively and out of control it gets!

It's the monkeys that make me appreciate the ducks.

To my friends with too many monkeys right now, I feel your pain.  You can borrow my Twila Paris CD (how old-fashioned of me) or give me a call.  I will be happy to realign my ducks to accommodate your monkey.
LJ