Dear God, this is such a scary time, and I need your help…
Please open my heart to care for the people who need me with compassion and gentle patience.
Please open my eyes to the beauty that still surrounds me – the hyacinths in my yard, the cherry blossoms next door, the cardinals splashing in the puddles outside my window.
Please open my hands to serve others with generosity and caring.
Please open my ears to the gentle whispering of your Holy Spirit in my soul, the calm voice of stillness and peace that reminds me you are with us.
Its that time of year when we balance looking back with looking ahead. We look back at the regrets and mistakes of the past year and vow not to repeat them. We look back at the joys and blessings and try to figure out how to keep them.
We map a New Year filled with all the good and none and of the bad; make our plans and resolutions, all the while declining to acknowledge that we aren’t really in control.
Remember Woody Allen’s saying, “If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans”? I don’t envision Him sitting up in heaven blatantly thwarting my dreams for a perfect life. I do see Him smiling and asking, “Why do you insist on going your own way? Why don’t you listen to My voice and let Me help you?”
My daughter, Jordan, recently ran her first half marathon. As with her sister before her, I planned to cheer from various vantage points along the course.
“See you at five miles, ten and the finish line!” I called, dropping her off as close to the starting point as I could. The early morning air was chilly and brisk, full of excitement as other runners were dropped off and other families wished them good luck.
Only after she got out of the car did I realize two important problems. The first was that many streets were closed that morning to accommodate the runners. The second was that I do not know Richmond at all. My GPS did not acknowledge the closed roads, and the detour signs were inconsistent. I gave up the plan to cheer at the 5th and 10th mile markers and decided instead to head out of the downtown area to a park the course passed through. I figured at least there would be parking at a park and said a quick prayer for God to help me find my way.
Unfortunately, all the roads that accessed the park were closed, and there was no easy go-around. I drove around aimlessly for a while, in and out of charming neighborhoods, where people were still asleep or at least warm inside enjoying their coffee. I pulled in front of a little bungalow, just as a couple and their dog came out. I rolled down the window and asked if they knew where the marathon route was.
Lately
I’ve been thinking a lot about trust. Such a simple word to say; such a
difficult thing to do.
I realize I don’t quite trust anyone but myself. I spend a lot of mental energy devising back up plans: an alternate dinner in case my daughter forgets its her turn to cook; a dog sitter list in case my regular one cancels at the last minute; a different route to work in case there is flooding or road work. If I’m honest, I don’t even trust God; I ask for His help but always have a plan of my own in case He doesn’t come through. I waste so much time preparing for events that never even happen. What an exhausting way to live!
Maybe it grew out of the knowledge that no one is perfect and that even those we love can let us down. More likely it grew out of my ongoing need for control -another simple word, but one that can wreak havoc on my life. I bet you can relate.
Control is illusive. Every time I think I’ve come up with a
contingency plan for the problems in my life, something unexpected pops up.
Every time I think I have my schedule – or my house, or my patients, or my diet
or my exercise, etc. – under control, something unexpected derails me.
Ever
wonder if you heard God wrong and you’re supposed to be doing something
different? Periodically those thoughts tiptoe uninvited into my brain, and I
wrestle with what-if questions, too
Last week I met some very powerful and accomplished women at a conference. Jealousy crept in as I mulled over how old I am, questioned dreams I have yet to fulfill, and wondered about where I am in life. One of those powerful women happened to be with me at the time and my doubts spilled into our small group sharing.
“Maybe you’re exactly where your
supposed to be,” she said. “Maybe Satan is trying to discourage you because you’re
doing such a good job.” Her comment caught me off guard, and frankly, surprised
me. I rarely think about the devil and speak of him even less. I thanked her at
the end of our session and headed outside for time to consider her words.
What an interesting theory, I
reflected as I meandered onto a nature trail next to the conference center. As
usually happens when I am outdoors, my thoughts lightened. The sunshine warmed my
perspective and my face; the birds distracted me with their song, and the plants
and flowers perked my curiosity. Gradually I felt better and headed back for
the next meeting.
As I crossed onto a boardwalk over classic
North Carolina swampland, a dozen birds up ahead pranced on the path and squawked
loudly. I didn’t pay much attention, until the stick they were fussing over
raised its head and hissed. The snake was sill a good fifteen feet ahead of me,
but the wooden path was narrow and the swamp below squishy with mud.
