peace and surrender

I haven't been journaling as much.  I haven't been struggling as much.  I haven't felt myself "wrestling with God" as much.  Which, I think, is a good thing.   I needed a rest.  Expecting to be disappointed has been difficult. I have decided to give hope a chance.

One of my friends on facebook recently put this as her status: "(--------- is thinking alot about surrender these days. Not the kind of surrender with a white flag that comes in defeat, but the kind of surrender that comes when I open my clenched fists so that my hands can be open to receive new things."  I like that.  

It is easier said than done, but I have been trying.  I have been trying to unclench my fists.  I have been trying to relax my shoulders.  I have been trying to give God a chance to love me, without expecting inevitable disappointment.  I don't know what that love will look like, but I feel ready to risk, to be open to receive it. Trying to control the uncontrollable is only frustrating and disappointing. 

I think this blogging process has been helpful. Writing "it" down for the world helps me see myself more objectively; it helps me express myself; it helps me work through these complicated emotions.  Getting others' feedback helps keep me centered and a bit more rational.  I think the process overall is helping me find some peace...

In addition, it is interesting to hear the feedback.  Some have worried about my mental health, and thought perhaps I needed counseling.  Some have worried about my relationship with God, and keep reminding me that God is not "out to get me."  Some have pointed out that my posts reflect the Kubler-Ross grief cycle. Some have reminded me that God does not play favorites.  Some have reminded me that God loves us, and give us his grace even if we don't build homes in Guatemala :). Some have commented on how much they appreciate getting a glimpse into my world.  I'm not complaining, just reporting. :) I appreciate the care and concern.
 

The other day a friend I hadn't seen in a while said to me, "Wow. How do you do it? You seem so at peace. You get up every morning and take care of yourself and your family. You don't look haggard, or worn down. How do you do it? You amaze me." It kind of shocked me, actually. I don't see myself on the outside. It was interesting to hear his perception.  But once he said it, I could feel it. Somehow, a peace has slowly been invading this anxious body.

It is also interesting for me to reflect and realize that I am completely comfortable sharing myself this way. 

For those who have been concerned :), much of what I write is pure emotion.  The cognitive part of my brain which knows and believes that God does not play favorites, and is not "out to get me" is not the part that of me that is in pain.  If I could stay cognitive, then maybe I would feel better.  But then I would be suppressing the overwhelming emotion that I feel.  It has to come out somewhere.  So I write it down. 

And it often feels like God looked down and said,"Whoa.  Lookie there.  A happy human.  A happy family. Must ruin.  Must make dependent on me.  Must make them realize how much they need me.  I know just the way to do it."  I write it down, and everyone gasps. (Well, some gasp.)


But I hope/think, I am at a point in the process where I am ready to trust that God loves Andrew, and cares about what happens to our family.  I don't know what the end result will be, but I am trying to relax in that cognitive belief.  At least for today.

Take my life, Jesus.  Help me through this. Help me handle what comes. I open my heart and give you a chance to love me.  Here I am, slowly, gradually, unclenching my fists. Use me as you choose. 

I surrender.