I was told recently that I "live life with an open hand". Translation: I surrender my circumstances and trust that the Lord will take care of me.
If only that were true all the time. Or even most of the time.
Throughout the spring semester, I learned what it means to grip my world with an iron fist, to hold on so tight that my nails dig into my palms. And it hurt. Then it hurt even worse when almost all of the things that I was clutching to so tightly were ripped away from me. The Lord left me with what I needed to keep my head above water: Himself, family, and close friends. Everything else he reclaimed as his own because I 100% refused to give it to him.
Because I am crazy selfish and try to control my world.
Which, interestingly enough, is impossible to actually execute.
So this semester, having began to heal from the destruction of the spring, I decided that those were some scars that I wasn't keen on reopening. This semester would be different. I would define the fall by surrender--something I am not exceptional at. And, by some miracle, it's sort of happened.
I keep marching towards graduation, and I am continuously wondering what my next step is. A little clarity there, a little fogginess there. On my path of life (the cliche is overwhelming and I'm sorry), I have very, very limited visibility. I don't think that's an accident, either. The planner/control freak in me is panicked at every turn, but it flares up and dies, like a quick summer storm, rather than weathering me down day after brutal day.
I will not let myself be brought down by things I cannot control.
Because I have somehow had a pretty peaceful semester. There haven't been many breakdowns, virtually no conflict, and a lot of doors that I didn't expect have been swung open for me. This might be one of the first times in my life where I can look at where I was a few months ago and examine where I am now and see the visible change and growth in such a small time frame.
8 months ago, I was an utter disaster. But that was the Lord refining me, molding me, melting down the pride, pulling out the insecurities, remaking me. He makes all things new (2 Corinthians 5:17), and I am no exception to that. And it is only by the power of Jesus Christ that I can accept my insufficient attributes and trust that he will still take care of me.
I am fully known, and fully loved. And it is only through the opening of my hands to the only one who is capable of handling my mess that I will find wholeness and peace.
