Just tell your story...
I've been toying with the idea of writing some sort of blog/devotion for a while now. Disclaimer: I am NOT a writer, nor am I a Bible scholar by any stretch of the imagination. I've been feeling this nudge to write, and I keep giving God the same excuses I just mentioned above. "I don't have enough scripture memorized to attempt to teach anyone anything. I'm not a writer. Who am I to write a devotion for others to read? Who am I to give anyone any type of advice?" My life is far from together. I ate Lucky Charms for dinner last night.
Every time I give one of these excuses, God comes back at me with "JUST TELL YOUR STORY."
So while I don't have any seminary training, I don't have a degree in any sort of writing, or theology, and I'm less than equipped to teach anyone... I do have one thing, and that's my story. Actually, I have several stories. About my life (that could quite honestly be turned into a good soap opera), but most importantly the sovereignty of God in my life. For whatever reason, I'm feeling led to share. I don't know if one person will read this, or if several will. But I will write, because I feel like that's what God is telling me to do.
So here it goes....
I titled this blog 'Be Still' as in Psalms 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God..." and also Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." because ironically I am the WORST about this. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a controller. I'm a fixer. I need to know the plan, the outcome, and if it's an undesirable outcome, I need to intervene and make it right. If someone I love is struggling, or hurting, I NEED to fix it for them. It is not easy for me to 'Be Still' and let God take care of things.
Case in point: We moved my daughter into her college dorm this past week. I have been crying about this for close to a year now. I have begged, and prayed, and bribed in attempt to keep her at home or at least close to home. I stopped making plans with anyone. I avoid public places. I avoid phone calls. I come home from work and sleep on the couch until bedtime and then I move to the bed. I have had anxiety for the first time in my life, to a point where I saw my doctor to be put on medication. What happens when she leaves me? How will I know she's safe in her dorm at night? What if she gets a horrible, mean roommate? What if something terrible happens to her? Would she tell me or would she keep it bottled up until she's struggling so much that she becomes depressed... or worse? What if someone gets her to try heroin? What if she overdoses? I could go on and on about the ridiculous scenarios that have gone through my mind and have played out in my nightmares on a regular basis since she decided to go away to school. (Yes, I do realize how irrational these thoughts are and logically I can tell myself that. But fear and anxiety had taken over any rationale in my mind.) I was convinced that if she left me, something terrible was going to happen to her because I won't be there to protect her. Or to control the situation. I'm so sad to say that these fears and anxieties prevented me from sharing in her joy and excitement. From celebrating what a great accomplishment it is that she's not only been accepted in to her #1 choice for college, but that she also got pretty darn good scholarships. It prevented me from going shopping with her for dorm stuff. And helping her choose which pictures should go in which frames for her dorm room. You know, all the things a mom should do with her daughter. I tried so hard to hide my anxiety from her and to put on a happy face, but I failed miserably. I couldn't look at her without crying. I couldn't watch a sappy movie, or even a back-to-school commercial without melting down. I. Was. A. Mess.
About 6 weeks before she left, she was in a pretty bad car accident. Her car was totaled. She walked away with very minor injuries. Of course I took her to the ER to be checked out, because if you saw the car you'd think whoever was driving it was severely injured. She only complained about her thumb hurting. On the way home from the hospital, after all the commotion, after all the emotions and adrenaline had died down, I felt this overwhelming peace. I have always said that it's so frustrating to me that I can't seem to hear or recognize God's voice. I recognized it in the car that day. It was as plain as day to me. He said "See? I've got her. She's my child too and I will be there to protect her even when you aren't."
I would love to tell you that I listened and believed Him. I would love to say that all of my anxiety melted away and from that moment on, I was 'still' and let go of control, trusting that God's got her. I didn't. I still had (almost) daily meltdowns at the thought of her leaving and the what-if's, right up until the day she left.
She has been gone for 5 days now, and I'm actually feeling somewhat ok. We talk several times every day (which I'm sure will change when classes start tomorrow) and I know she's ready for this. She is smart, and strong. She's independent, and brave, and confident, and most comforting of all... she is His.
Every time I give one of these excuses, God comes back at me with "JUST TELL YOUR STORY."
So while I don't have any seminary training, I don't have a degree in any sort of writing, or theology, and I'm less than equipped to teach anyone... I do have one thing, and that's my story. Actually, I have several stories. About my life (that could quite honestly be turned into a good soap opera), but most importantly the sovereignty of God in my life. For whatever reason, I'm feeling led to share. I don't know if one person will read this, or if several will. But I will write, because I feel like that's what God is telling me to do.
So here it goes....
I titled this blog 'Be Still' as in Psalms 46:10 "Be still and know that I am God..." and also Exodus 14:14 "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." because ironically I am the WORST about this. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a controller. I'm a fixer. I need to know the plan, the outcome, and if it's an undesirable outcome, I need to intervene and make it right. If someone I love is struggling, or hurting, I NEED to fix it for them. It is not easy for me to 'Be Still' and let God take care of things.
Case in point: We moved my daughter into her college dorm this past week. I have been crying about this for close to a year now. I have begged, and prayed, and bribed in attempt to keep her at home or at least close to home. I stopped making plans with anyone. I avoid public places. I avoid phone calls. I come home from work and sleep on the couch until bedtime and then I move to the bed. I have had anxiety for the first time in my life, to a point where I saw my doctor to be put on medication. What happens when she leaves me? How will I know she's safe in her dorm at night? What if she gets a horrible, mean roommate? What if something terrible happens to her? Would she tell me or would she keep it bottled up until she's struggling so much that she becomes depressed... or worse? What if someone gets her to try heroin? What if she overdoses? I could go on and on about the ridiculous scenarios that have gone through my mind and have played out in my nightmares on a regular basis since she decided to go away to school. (Yes, I do realize how irrational these thoughts are and logically I can tell myself that. But fear and anxiety had taken over any rationale in my mind.) I was convinced that if she left me, something terrible was going to happen to her because I won't be there to protect her. Or to control the situation. I'm so sad to say that these fears and anxieties prevented me from sharing in her joy and excitement. From celebrating what a great accomplishment it is that she's not only been accepted in to her #1 choice for college, but that she also got pretty darn good scholarships. It prevented me from going shopping with her for dorm stuff. And helping her choose which pictures should go in which frames for her dorm room. You know, all the things a mom should do with her daughter. I tried so hard to hide my anxiety from her and to put on a happy face, but I failed miserably. I couldn't look at her without crying. I couldn't watch a sappy movie, or even a back-to-school commercial without melting down. I. Was. A. Mess.
About 6 weeks before she left, she was in a pretty bad car accident. Her car was totaled. She walked away with very minor injuries. Of course I took her to the ER to be checked out, because if you saw the car you'd think whoever was driving it was severely injured. She only complained about her thumb hurting. On the way home from the hospital, after all the commotion, after all the emotions and adrenaline had died down, I felt this overwhelming peace. I have always said that it's so frustrating to me that I can't seem to hear or recognize God's voice. I recognized it in the car that day. It was as plain as day to me. He said "See? I've got her. She's my child too and I will be there to protect her even when you aren't."
I would love to tell you that I listened and believed Him. I would love to say that all of my anxiety melted away and from that moment on, I was 'still' and let go of control, trusting that God's got her. I didn't. I still had (almost) daily meltdowns at the thought of her leaving and the what-if's, right up until the day she left.
She has been gone for 5 days now, and I'm actually feeling somewhat ok. We talk several times every day (which I'm sure will change when classes start tomorrow) and I know she's ready for this. She is smart, and strong. She's independent, and brave, and confident, and most comforting of all... she is His.
I need only to be still.
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