Not in Control

When I was a kid I was terrified of the dark. Bedtime was an ordeal. I always had to have a nightlite on, door open, hallway light on. I often got up in the night and went to my parents’ room. They often had to sit outside my door to help me go to sleep. 

During that time I established some rituals that seemed rather obsessive compulsive. I had a lot of stuffed animals. A lot. I loved them dearly and played with them often. At bedtime I had to have them all with me. On my bed. If they were not on my bed then they had to be in the exact spot I designated for them where I felt that they were all safe and snug together, no one left out. Now, I can see that it was a way to establish control and to give myself a sense of security. My stuffed animals were my children and I made sure they were all safely together, no one alone in the dark. I can still remember that panic that would well up if some fell off the bed, or I was missing one. There was no way I could be at peace unless they were all where they were supposed to be. 

Last night I had a sudden flashback to that time of my life because I could feel the same sense of panic welling up again. My oldest daughter spent the summer with us, but now she was returning to college and the place she has made her own home. And suddenly another one of my children was not going to be safe under my roof where I knew she would not be alone in the dark somewhere where I couldn’t reach her. 

When I was a kid it took me a while to get over my obsession. Some of it was outgrowing the need, and some of it was being in situations where I simply couldn’t control where everything was and so I just had to learn to accept that. 

As a parent I’ve had a lot of practice learning how little control I have over my children. Especially my grown up ones. I can’t keep them all safely around me. I can’t control what they think and believe. I can’t control what decisions they make. I can’t control what the world throws at them. 

Last night, instead of trying to stuff the panicky feeling deep down where I could ignore it for a while, I addressed it head on. Ok. My daughter is leaving. I no longer get to see her every day and that makes me sad. I am now stepping back to phone calls, silly texts, and praying for her every day. And right there, that is where the peace comes in. I can pray for my kids twenty-four hours a day if needed. I am not in control. But God is. I can’t protect them. But God can. I can’t provide every single little thing they need. But God does. 

I can trust God with my children.  

The sense of feeling in control is something I’ve had to learn to hold lightly. Sure, I’ve got control of some things, until suddenly I don’t. (Think 2020!) But, we have not been called to keep everything in order under our thumb. We’ve been called to trust God. Have faith in him. And in that trust and faith is where we find peace.