from where I stand. 

I don’t know when I started but I have…I’m learning to let things go. 

Maybe it was after I started telling God daily…”I’m here.” Such simple words, but the kind ofwords that   take the struggle from me. The struggle to keep it all together. The struggle to cling to the temporary. The struggle to be liked by negative and toxic people. I realized I was hating the rain because I was trying to fill my pockets with each drop of the struggles I was carrying that weren’t necessary. When that weight was lifted I could say “I’m here.” And suddenly it was easy to let go. 

Maybe it was my teenage son getting sick. Really sick. Pneumonia in both lungs. An ear infection. After he’d had an asthma attack at home alone and I wasn’t there- all of the crippling dark words began to clang in my head over and over. I should have been there. And then my husband sent a text, that said “It’s ok. I’m here with him now. He’s ok.” I must’ve read that text 20 times over the next few days. And after a lot of praying I let that go. And I loved my son. And was fully there for him. 

And then…

It’s funny how on the day I wrote I was learning to let things go the world began to tilt and slowly pour big drops of worry all over the surface of my real. I wasn’t trying to fill my pockets, but instead my boots were full and I tried to continue to walking. And then I was trudging “I’m here Lord…I’m. Here.” And then I couldn’t walk anymore. 

And there I was, standing still. 

There’s this…

My teenager tried out for baseball with pneumonia still on one side, and the raging ear infection that never went away. The first day of try outs were hard. He didn’t feel well. He didn’t feel confident. It showed. He came home, and walked silently to his room. As a parent it is heart wrenching to watch and see the transition of what is supposed to be joy and fun become twisted into uncertainty and defeat. The kids who have the biggest hearts don’t always make the team. Especially when they’re sick. As I stood outside his closed door, I could feel his pain through it. The silence said so much. A few days later we found out he made a team. I was elated, he was uncertain. None of his friends are on it, but it’s a good coach. He’ll make friends we told him. But when you’re 14 that’s not always easy. To him, he doesn’t see what a big deal it was that he went out there, and tried so hard when his body was so depleted. I told him this, as we sat in the doctors office the third time this week. He is stronger than he gives himself credit for.

And that…

My bonus Dad. Cancer. He has been fighting so long. He is the most faith led person I’ve ever met. Another appointment this week. I worry, because cancer doesn’t care who you are, or if you have people who love you. Cancer just takes. So he fights, and we stand by, and love him and pray. I have no doubt that God loves my Papa John. But it’s hard. It’s not fair. None of it. But Papa John…he trusts God with all of this, so I do too. 

And the rest of the week I stood stuck…because here I was thinking I was letting things go, but the battle for joy during the real stuff is hard. How do I let go when my child is hurting and his dream may not work out? When my Dad is sick and he may not get better? Or that my husband is fighting monsters, and I worry he won’t make it home.  How could I go on? Every day I worry for the safety of my family, because the media, politicians, celebrities, and social media are fanning a flame of divide. While he worked 18 hours yesterday, dealing with true evil…I didn’t want to share him with a public who doesn’t protect the good.  How do I explain the real stuff of mean kids in middle school, the kid that told my sweet Daniel he wasn’t a Christian because he is a Catholic- how could you say that to my boy with servants heart Daniel, the kid who shows me Christ everyday? Or  his” friends” who said loud enough for him to hear when he left the lunch table, “Finally, he’s gone.” I ask how as I stand still. I have no answers. I’m Stuck.

“I’m here.” 

But. But there’s more. When I went to the If Gathering earlier this month I came back changed. I look the same, but my heart is very different. I go to bed and wake up every morning with prayers escaping my lips. Prayers of thanksgiving and prayers to the One who gave me this life. This morning as I woke up, and my words of thanksgiving left my lips, I realized that standing still is allowing me something else…my boots and pockets may be full of worry, but I’m not stuck. Not at all. 

So I knelt. I knelt down on the hard ground. My worries left my lips as I gave it all to God…not needing answers, but trusting that no matter what, no matter how heavy it all becomes He’s Here too. And there’s a beauty and grace in not trying to walk or trudge but falling to my knees and just giving Him all of it. The heavy, the big, the Real. All of it. 

So maybe I’m not letting go yet. But I’m letting God be here. And I’m here too. 

So to you, my dear real friends…

May God give you comfort today. If you are stuck, I am on my knees with you. He’s here.

To God be the Glory.