Pardon me while I panic...calmly?
Please forgive the unorganized fashion of this post. It is more my therapy tonight than for any actual purpose. Consider it an exercise in "free writing."
After my dad died, I became the unofficial protector of our little family. I was the self-appointed glue that held everyone together, and I would do anything I could to keep us together; safe. As I've gotten older, I've run across more un"fix"able situations. I began to realize that I can't keep everyone safe all the time. Life happens.
As I've grown closer to God over the past few months, I've also begun to see that it's not in my hands. Everything doesn't have to be my responsibility; I don't have to carry the weight of everyone on my shoulders. That's His job. I've finally seen that, finally begun to give up some of the responsibility, accept the peace. As I shed the anger, the resentment, the blame, the hurt, the responsibility, the guilt, the fear, I saw my Creator. My hope. My God.
Safer than I've ever felt. More at peace than I've been in a decade. Calm. Happy. Trusting. Life is still happening all around me; people get hurt, bad days happen, bills get behind. But for once, it wasn't my responsibility to make it all work. Finally home, in His hands.
Events recently have tested that peace, that calm. That trust. But I close my eyes, mentally drop to my knees, and say, "It's yours". I can't count the number of times this past couple of weeks that I've prayed, "Make them deaf and blind to everything around them"; "Please, just keep them safe"; "Let today be uneventful". Most of all, though, just keep them safe.
Last night was the most trying of all. Last night, the old role of protector entwined with the peace of the Creator, and the result was a calm panic. The thoughts that rolled through my mind as I put warmer clothes on were thoughts I never thought I would have to entertain. Terrifying. But calm. Measured. Planning. What will I need to do? What will I need to bring? What are all of the possible scenarios, and what are all of the possible consequences? Please, please let them be safe.
Then the phone rang. Everything's fine. Everyone is okay.
The relief was raw and acute. I walked outside and clutched my chest; it felt like there was a hole there. I gulped air; there didn't seem to be enough, like I'd stopped breathing fifteen minutes ago and had just now started again. I realized I was crying. I was shaking like crazy.
It didn't last as long as I'd thought it would. I stood back up, went back inside. For the first time, I realized how absolutely terrified I had been.
Now, I am fascinated by the human mind, so I will pick this one apart for a moment, because it's really quite remarkable what the mind does. The part of the mind that isn't the brain, I mean. That exquisite, amazing thing that makes us human, and not just another beast. The part of the mind that is just as much heart and soul as it is thought. Bear with me.
I rarely have experienced a controlled thought process such as this; I can only remember one or two other times when I've done that. It's like your mind is panicking, the adrenaline has dumped, but you very carefully allow only certain thoughts to enter your conscious mind. The background is frantic, but the conscious allows only logic and planning; ensuring the next moves will guide you as safely through the remainder of the crisis as possible. Hope crops up and is quickly beaten back; hysteria edges in and is squelched immediately as well. And then, it's over, and nothing you can do can hold the hysteria, the panic at bay any longer.
In the end, I had to see for myself. Even once I'd seen with my own eyes, I slept fretfully, and my eyes are burning now. The dread didn't fully go away for awhile. I think because I know it's not over yet. Even as I slipped into the old role, I did so with my God in the lead. That part still amazes me--see, it's situations like these that I fear I will abandon Him (not the other way around). It is a fear that I will slip into old habits. But it is, as of yet, an unwarranted fear. And with each unexpected victory, my faith gets a little stronger, my confidence grows a bit more. I get a little closer to my God each time I am tested, and for that I am grateful.
Sorry if this doesn't "flow" cohesively. 'Night. :)
After my dad died, I became the unofficial protector of our little family. I was the self-appointed glue that held everyone together, and I would do anything I could to keep us together; safe. As I've gotten older, I've run across more un"fix"able situations. I began to realize that I can't keep everyone safe all the time. Life happens.
As I've grown closer to God over the past few months, I've also begun to see that it's not in my hands. Everything doesn't have to be my responsibility; I don't have to carry the weight of everyone on my shoulders. That's His job. I've finally seen that, finally begun to give up some of the responsibility, accept the peace. As I shed the anger, the resentment, the blame, the hurt, the responsibility, the guilt, the fear, I saw my Creator. My hope. My God.
Safer than I've ever felt. More at peace than I've been in a decade. Calm. Happy. Trusting. Life is still happening all around me; people get hurt, bad days happen, bills get behind. But for once, it wasn't my responsibility to make it all work. Finally home, in His hands.
Events recently have tested that peace, that calm. That trust. But I close my eyes, mentally drop to my knees, and say, "It's yours". I can't count the number of times this past couple of weeks that I've prayed, "Make them deaf and blind to everything around them"; "Please, just keep them safe"; "Let today be uneventful". Most of all, though, just keep them safe.
Last night was the most trying of all. Last night, the old role of protector entwined with the peace of the Creator, and the result was a calm panic. The thoughts that rolled through my mind as I put warmer clothes on were thoughts I never thought I would have to entertain. Terrifying. But calm. Measured. Planning. What will I need to do? What will I need to bring? What are all of the possible scenarios, and what are all of the possible consequences? Please, please let them be safe.
Then the phone rang. Everything's fine. Everyone is okay.
The relief was raw and acute. I walked outside and clutched my chest; it felt like there was a hole there. I gulped air; there didn't seem to be enough, like I'd stopped breathing fifteen minutes ago and had just now started again. I realized I was crying. I was shaking like crazy.
It didn't last as long as I'd thought it would. I stood back up, went back inside. For the first time, I realized how absolutely terrified I had been.
Now, I am fascinated by the human mind, so I will pick this one apart for a moment, because it's really quite remarkable what the mind does. The part of the mind that isn't the brain, I mean. That exquisite, amazing thing that makes us human, and not just another beast. The part of the mind that is just as much heart and soul as it is thought. Bear with me.
I rarely have experienced a controlled thought process such as this; I can only remember one or two other times when I've done that. It's like your mind is panicking, the adrenaline has dumped, but you very carefully allow only certain thoughts to enter your conscious mind. The background is frantic, but the conscious allows only logic and planning; ensuring the next moves will guide you as safely through the remainder of the crisis as possible. Hope crops up and is quickly beaten back; hysteria edges in and is squelched immediately as well. And then, it's over, and nothing you can do can hold the hysteria, the panic at bay any longer.
In the end, I had to see for myself. Even once I'd seen with my own eyes, I slept fretfully, and my eyes are burning now. The dread didn't fully go away for awhile. I think because I know it's not over yet. Even as I slipped into the old role, I did so with my God in the lead. That part still amazes me--see, it's situations like these that I fear I will abandon Him (not the other way around). It is a fear that I will slip into old habits. But it is, as of yet, an unwarranted fear. And with each unexpected victory, my faith gets a little stronger, my confidence grows a bit more. I get a little closer to my God each time I am tested, and for that I am grateful.
Sorry if this doesn't "flow" cohesively. 'Night. :)
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