Fear

Some people are afraid of spiders, black cats, ghosts, goblins, zombies, heights, or snakes. Some of these are legitimate fears, others irrational. I have my own mix of terrors. I never used to be scared of heights, but I am now. I don’t like spiders, but I’m not afraid of them. Same with snakes. I am terrified of grizzly bears and one other thing — death. But not my own.

After losing two husbands, I was terrified God would take my current one too soon. He’s healthy, and there is no indication his death was imminent, but I still worried.

In truth, I also worried about my son when he was first born. My brother died from SIDS at three months, and I agonized over the possibility my child would too. After the anniversary month passed, I relaxed, only to have that worry replaced by another. Even my brush with breast cancer was not as terrifying as my anxiety over losing my husband.

This changed last Sunday.

God used another series of odd coincidences to first get my attention and then remind me of His promise that my husband and I would grow old together. At the same time, I realized I was worrying about things out of my control. With that revelation, my apprehensions melted, vanished, disappeared.

I have not woken in the middle of the night to check on my husband’s breathing. When he slept late, I did not sneak into the room and watch for the rise and fall of his chest. His errands the other day ran longer than I expected, but I didn’t pace the floor wringing my hands, or stare out the window willing his truck to appear.

I know one day death will separate us for a time, but when it comes, God will already be there offering His comfort and His strength.

The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom [or what] shall I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?

I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord. 

I do believe. 

Life Without a To Do List

I used to be a serious planner, making not only daily To Do Lists but also contingency plans for every possibility. I spent more time planning than any other activity. They were my last thoughts at night, fine tuning and revising, repeating with paper and pencil in the morning. On busy days I told people I’d gone from Plan A, past Plan G, and beyond.

Some planning is necessary, but not to the depth I had taken it. It was an attempt at control, an illusion that If I planned it, I could control the outcome. My plans had become idols. I thought more of them than anything else, even prayer.

A Bump in the Road

We’ve all experienced them, those unexpected bumps that jar our otherwise smooth journey. Some just jostle us a little. Others knock us out of our seats, spin us around several times, and dump us upside down.

We sit stunned, dazed, and uncertain what to do. Are we still in the driver’s seat, or only a passenger? Are we even in the vehicle?

A jostle reminds us to pay attention and not become complacent of this gift of life. Major upsets force us to relinquish control, pause, and reflect. Do we wring our hands and cry? Or do we choose another reaction?

We have a light. It might be small at first, but as we hold it up and blow on the flame, it grows brighter and brighter. Its light might not show us the exact path we are to take, but it will be enough to see the next step, and the next.

Faith. We aren’t supposed to hide it under the bed, or in our pockets, only bringing it out when we are frightened. It is the light we should hold high as a guide for ourselves and those who follow.

I am not sure how far off track this new bump in my life has sent me sprawling. I am still in the initial, what-was-that, phase, but not alone. Friends and family have shouted encouragement, and my faith burns brighter.

The road will be rough, but God will show me the way as long as I trust Him. He will guide me over the hard places and carry me when I’m too tired to walk. Should I fall and lose my grip, I don’t need to fear. He won’t leave me alone in the dark, terrified. He’ll head up a search party.

“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom should I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life, of whom should I be afraid?... I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, let thy heart take courage, and wait for the Lord.” Psalm 27: 1, 13-14.

The Lie

It’s a lie, and I bought it. I knew better, yet I still did it. A long time ago, when I was in therapy trying to handle the aftermath of my ex-husband’s abuse, my counselor gave me the wisest counsel. I cannot control anything in this life, except my reactions. 

How easy it is to forget. I posted last week that over planning and over preparing create their own sources of agony, (The Agony of Planning Too Far Ahead). This week, during my meditations, I realized the other half. All the planning and preparing are a manifestation of my attempts at control. If I plan enough and work hard enough for every intimate detail, I will control my life. 

But I have no control. I can’t prepare or plan for every contingency. I. Can’t. But, I think I can, and that’s the lie.

I have always left the big things in God’s hands, but recently I have tried to control all the little ones, dutifully listed on reams of paper. 

Like an alcoholic at an AA meeting, I must admit I am a control freak and take honest steps to stop.

After all, who really has control? God. 

How did I move from total trust in him to giving him only the big stuff? Isn’t he concerned about the small things too? The Bible has numerous stories of God taking care of the little details as well as the big picture. And really, if I miss one task on my list of household chores, what is the worst thing that would happen? I’d do it another day. Gasp!

Would that make me a bad housekeeper, or a bad person? Would the world end? Really?

How easy it is to allow The Lie to control my thoughts and actions. 

My new goal is to follow my husband’s example and be a bit more spontaneous, allow a certain amount of uncertainty to exist — and not fight it. After all, it will exist regardless of what I do anyway, so why struggle? 

I’ve learned this lesson once before. Will it stick this time, or will I fall back into the lie, giving into the urge to over plan and over prepare for every possible contingency?

I hope not. I pray not. 

I can overcome this, as long as I remember to trust God, and not myself. After all, with God all things are possible, even a life filled with more spontaneity, and as a result, more joy.

Converting

For as long as I can remember, I have been consumed by passions, an over developed sense of responsibility, and the desire to be in control. Sound familiar?

I planned each minute of every day, adhering to a strict schedule devoid of any spontaneity. I went as far as to begin each morning planning not just that day’s schedule, but contingency plans for every conceivable variation. Well, I tried. I was the teachers’ darling, the exemplary employee, the most responsible mom, a devoted wife — and I was miserable. 

Jesus’ admonishment to be “converted, and become as little children” puzzled me. How could I be like a child when I was a responsible adult, carrying the world on my shoulders? I couldn’t just drop out. I had a husband and children to care for, a boss to obey.

Retirement removed most of my responsibilities, and yet I still kept up the paranoid plotting and planning, believing if I planned enough and worked hard enough, I could control everything in my life. It gave me a false sense of security. I had a deep faith, but I trusted my own strength first, only giving God the heavy stuff, when I felt backed into a corner. 

When I recently re-read the passage from Matthew, I finally understood the message. All the needless planning and plotting created an old soul, weighed down by burdens God never intended that I should carry. 

Yes, I can plan, but casually without going into every possible contingency. This revelation gave me a get-out-of-jail card. By relinquishing control, I became as a child, trusting a loving Father to consul me, as well as to supply my needs. 

The old thought patterns still arise, but I shoo them away. I don’t want to be trapped in the old lie again. I doubt I need to worry about suddenly becoming an irresponsible or foolish senior. My sense of responsibility is far too ingrained for that, but I can certainly work harder to be a dependent, obedient child, accepting God’s guidance, freely and cheerfully performing the tasks he sets before me.

What is on today's agenda? Other than the usual basics, I haven't a clue...

I've Figure It Out

Worry is relentless, moving through my life like a raging storm, devouring everything in its path, leaving horrendous devastation behind. I think I finally figured out why I continue to feed its voracious appetite — control.

Somewhere, I picked up two damaging ideas. The first, if you care about someone or something, you will worry over its wellbeing. If you don’t worry and fret, you don’t love. The second, by worrying, fretting, and pacing, I will somehow maintain control over the situation. If I just let go, I lose all chance of control. I am just debris blown about wherever the wind takes me, without direction or purpose. That idea brings on panic attacks and nightmares.

I know I have no control over anything except my reaction. Even those are sometimes hard to control, but to let go is unthinkable despite my vows to do so.

But knowing the cause is half the battle. When worries start burrowing into my thoughts, I need to remind myself that agonizing will not change the outcome, only erode this moment. Letting go doesn’t mean I don’t care, only letting go of the struggle.

I can weep with the grieving, offer help to those in need wherever and however I can, pray, and let God manage the outcomes.   

I don’t want control.

There will be unpleasantness. There will be pain, but it will be fleeting. I once told a good friend going through a very hard time, “Challenges are like a night at a bad hotel. It is unpleasant, but it will pass.” I need to listen to my own advice.

Life isn’t all sorrow. Good memories are mixed with the unpleasant. My future will be the same, a mixture. In addition, God has promised we “will see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. We must expect the Lord, do manfully, and let our hearts take courage, and wait for the Lord.” Psalm 27: 13-14.

It is the waiting that is so hard. However, I hope I’m getting better at it.