I really think I’m in control. I choose, I do, I make it happen.
I do make the coffee, sure, but I can’t make breath fill my lungs. I sit in my chair and watch the sun rise, but if it didn’t show up one day there wouldn’t be a single thing I could do about it.
Even this mama who had that awful, awful knock on the door that should have settled this question forever is lulled back into embracing the myth that I am in control.
For some odd reason that brings me comfort.
Odd because I fully realize how absolutely terrible it would be if I WAS in control of everything. I can’t find my glasses on top of my head-how in the world would I keep the earth spinning?
If it was up to me, things would be a mess.
Thankfully it is NOT up to me. I am NOT in control.
But I know the One Who is.
So many days I live like if I hold on tight enough, I won’t lose anything else. But that’s just not true-it’s still all up for grabs-I don’t have the strength or power to stop loss.
When I let go of my futile attempt to be in control, to maintain the illusion of control and to feed my need for control, I can receive the peace God is offering me through Jesus Christ.
Closed hands can’t receive anything.
If I am going to live at all,
I have got to live with open hands,
not clinched fists.