Out of Control

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to sit down and put down any thoughts. A whirlwind of activities and events have been taking place around me, and sometimes I have literally felt that I have been observing the proceedings rather than actively engaging (or directing) them.

The lack of control (or the perception that I lack the control) has colored much of my life and played an important part in my outlook, attitude and mental health most of my thirty-ahem-odd years. It’s amazing how anxious and nervous and rattled we humans become when we don’t feel like we have the answer, the we know the outcome, that we’re prepared for the unexpected.

I recently read a daily devotional that described how flying and surgery are two of the few times that people knowingly and willingly give up all control — we board a plane / lay on a operating table, buckle our seat belt / close our eyes, and allow the pilot to lift us off the ground / anesthesiologist to put us to sleep and the surgeon to cut us open. And we have little to no say in how they perform those tasks.

I have a hard time letting go, letting the chips fall, saying que sera sera. There is so much that is, well frankly, just scary out there. Yet, my powers aren’t super and my knowledge is omniscent. I’m vulnerable and prone to make errors. So, what is the answer?

I’m not sure. It’s as simple as that. I don’t know, but I’ve made it thirty-ahem-some years without screwing it up too badly. I think that some of it is not taking yourself too seriously. I think some of it is leaning on your family and friends when you need help (and when you don’t). Some of comes down to (as Tracy Jordan from “30 Rock” said) “Live every week like it’s Shark Week.” I’m pretty sure 100% of it is trusting in the Lord.

There is a song by the Indigo Girls in which the question is asked in the chorus “What would you give for your childhood fears?” I’ve thought about that question a lot over the years — what did I fear when I was young? My friends not being my friends any more; Mom and Dad being mad at me; not getting the “cool” pair of jeans or sneakers? In retrospect, those seem like such silly, small fears that who wouldn’t trade their scary, adult fears (mortgages, lay-offs, divorces, addictions, etc.) for their childhood fears. But I wouldn’t. I think that I’m better equipped now to handle my big, scary adult fears.

So, I’m feeling a little out of control. Lord, before You take this plane off and perform my surgery (cause I’m putting this into Your hands), could I get a drink, an insurance policy and a hug?

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