Still. Be still. Rest your mind. Your heart. Your soul. Be still and know I am God…
I keep hearing him speak. I keep hearing him say “Be still. Quit trying to solve problems that cannot be solved. Quit trying to fix what can’t be fixed. Quit trying to move forces that cannot be moved. Quit trying…quit doing…just be still. And let me be God and you be you.”
I’m stubborn when I want things to go my way. The way I want them to go. The time that I want them to go. S-T-U-B-B-O-R-N. And it leaves me exhausted and emotionally drained. Feeling like the world is crashing down on me, the weight too much to bear. Yet I cling stubbornly to this misconceived idea that *I* must be the one to fix it all.
He patiently waits for me to get the picture. He waits until I’ve exhausted all my options. I’m prone on the floor, sobbing into my newly laid hardwood floors, asking why I’m here….again. And he just gently whispers, BE STILL. And before I can open my mouth he barks…AND NO BUTS.
So, I say yes to what his will is. And it means that I must face my fear. I must face the fear that causes me to control not just my world, but the world of my kids and my family and my friends…and my husband. The fear that causes me to push him away and pull him close at the same time. The fear that tolerates things I should not tolerate and fear that doesn’t let us deal with the consequences. Fear that says I demand you do this and then demand you don’t do this if it means pain. Fear that keeps us from a healthier relationship and keeps us bound to decades of habits that foster pain and confusion and division. Fear that says, “I own and must control you.”
Fear destroys things long before the thing you fear arrives.
We just finished a remodel. It’s amazing to walk through the doors and know the old carpet and falling apart cabinets and colors of yesterday’s mistakes are gone. Yet, there’s a small part, that mourns what is gone. The room where we learned about Rome and bugs and laughed and learned and loved. Gone is the bookcases and the dry erase board and the tables. Gone is Grandpa’s microscope and the globe from Great-Grandma’s farmhouse. Gone is the carpet where Govy lay before the fireplace while Bella sucked her thumb and pulled his silky ears. Gone is the room where we snuggled and watched Tim Hawkins movies and way too many Heartland episodes and crazy sci-fi movies. The furniture is gone. The room is gone. The memories are there. The walls remain. But what was there is now gone.
And I feel, in some ways, now that we’ve move beyond the “honeymoon” stage I realize what was is no longer there and it brings me fear. I fear moving from this place where I’m comfortable. I fear changing things that need to change because I’m not sure what those changes will bring. Abba brought our relationship back to life, but he didn’t fundamentally change who the husband and I are. We are the same two people, with the same issues, backgrounds and experiences. Yes, we’re a little older, but the things that caused us to fall apart are still in play…and I fear.
It’s not fair. Really, he should just wave his wand, fix our lives and make it better than a Taylor Swift rerun.
What has always been cannot always be and what we’ve always done we cannot always do. As I walk through this phase, learning to trust him with our future, I can see…once fear leaves, love remains.
Just my heart tonight.