It was drizzling as we set out to come home at the end of an amazing vacation in the Finger Lakes, and I commented to my husband how wonderful it was that we had had only sunny weather the whole time we were there. The drizzle turned into steady rain a few minutes into our car trip. And just like that, it turned into a ribbon of rain so thick that we could not even see in front of us at all, so loud that we could not have a conversation. I turned the radio off. I yelled at my husband, asking him to pull over. He did not. “It’s okay,” he yelled back, “I am going slow.” But his slow felt like speeding to me, and all my nervousness settled in my heart and stomach. The car hydro-planed a bit. I could hardly breathe. I clenched my fists and tried to breathe deep. Scared and aggravated–why couldn’t he just stop along the side of the road? Did he not see how dangerous this all was? If it were me…
If it were me driving, I would so stop. If it were me driving, I would be able to feel the car on the road and gauge how it is handling it. I wouldn’t be as scared, because I would be in control.
I knew that’s what it was all about: control; or the absolute lack of it–like when I am flying: my life is in someone else’s hands, and that makes me very uncomfortable. This was not about my husband refusing to park the car for a while, nor the rain, nor the tires; it was simply about my realization that I am not in control. I don’t like it–and these are very mild words.
I senses Holy Spirit giggling. “Like things are better, or safer when you are in control?” He whispers.
“Well of course they are,” I want to snap back. But His giggle stops me. And I ponder His question.
He brings me back to my last bout with anger. Someone had made decisions that impacted me greatly and I was spitting mad at him for not even asking me my opinion. But really, was it about him being insensitive, or was it about me disliking not being in control? When all was said and done, it turned out that it had been the perfect decision, and that it was the right thing to do, and that it was better, and safer–even though I was not in control.
And what is it about control, anyway? Why do I yearn for it? Why do I fight for it?
The answer came gentle like a winter snow deep in my spirit. “Because you need practice in trusting Me.” No judgement attached to the words, just truth uttered in kindness.
The words tasted like honey in my insides, swallowing my anger, my frustrations, justifications and hypocrisy. How words can do that, I have no idea… but they did. And that was the end of my struggle with control that day. And the next time, I remembered the honey in my belly, and I simply said “yes,” to Jesus–practicing to trust, day in and day out. It gets easier with time.
Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann Voskamp
#958 Wine and cheese night with my hubby
#959 My doTerra business growing
#960 Godly wisdom in a difficult situation
Sometimes, I link up with any or all of these wonderful writers: Hearts 4 Home, SDG, Hearts Reflected, WLW, EOA, Things I can’t say, Growing Home, Play Dates with God, Monday Musings, Hear it on Sunday,Inspire Me Monday, Tell me a Story, The Better Mom, a Mama’s Story, Into the Word, In and Around Mondays,OYHT, Gratituesday,Titus2Tuesdays, Extraordinay, Lessons from Ivy, Denise in Bloom, Sweet Blessings, Faith Filled Friday, Finding Joy, WholeHearted Home, Mom’s the Word, Reclaiming a Redeemed Life, Still Saturday