Control is an illusion

I think of the future. Lord willing, it will bring more babies… more bright-eyed, cooing blessings… more sweet cheeks to kiss… more diapers to change… more middle-of-the-night feeding sessions… more brain haze and exhaustion… more challenges to my patience… more delicious baby breath… more heartbreaking smiles…

Oh, this life… the pinnacle of my earthly dreams. Yes, I dreamed of being a missionary, of rescuing orphans and traveling the world, of working with inner-city kids, of coordinating a literacy program, of getting my master’s in English. But most of all, I dreamed of being a wife and a mama.

And here I am, blessed beyond what I could have fathomed. It is a good, good life. We have love and health and freedom, and most of all, salvation. We have hope and dreams for the future.

*~*

But my hands grasp tightly at these blessings and my fears, knuckles turning white as I attempt to gain control and eliminate confusion. The more sleep-deprived and brain-hazy I am, the more out-of-control I feel, and the bleaker the future looks. I must control, I must make a plan and follow it, I must set my mind on attaining outer peace and order. Then I can feel less afraid.

Control is an illusion. I realize that when I think about the cosmic nature of my life, a life hanging on by a mere fragile heartbeat, a life lost in the epic grandeur of millions of planets spinning out into infinity.

*~*

I fall hard, landing not on a soft cushion, but on a sturdy rock that breaks me. The breaking is, of course, painful. Pieces shatter and I grasp frantically, trying to put them back together. A storm breaks above me. Will I ever feel safe?

Nearby is a crevice in the rock, and I creep into it and close my eyes, feel the roughness of the granite on my skin. I am not holding onto, but rather I am being held… not because I decided to be held, either. Confusion and lack of control still haunt me… but it’s only my perspective that makes me feel this way. If I realize the nature of the Rock, I begin to glimpse how safe I really am, no matter how fierce a storm I can dream up for my future.

I look up, rain blinding me, and notice again that it is a shower of blessings. Exhaustion and all.

It’s good to be safe.

*~*

A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord
A wonderful Savior to me
He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock
Where rivers of pleasure I see

He hideth my soul in the cleft of the rock
That shadows a dry, thirsty land
He hideth my life with the depths of His love
And shelters me there with His hand
And shelters me there with His hand

A wonderful Savior is Jesus my Lord
He taketh my burden away
He holdeth me up, and I shall not be moved
He giveth me strength as my day

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