Tag: lack of control

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. 

The Road to Peace and Calm

My oldest son enlisted in the army. He leaves tomorrow for basic training. Someone asked me how I felt about that. Proud. Hopeful. Scared. Worried. My list of WHAT IFS are pretty long. In the end, I have to believe that God has his hand on my son. Every once in a while though, I forget. Have a little freak out. Then take a deep breath and believe again. 

I had a birthday this week and I’ve been trying to do a little looking back at the last year. A little looking forward. Reflecting. I’m middish forties now. You know, I really had this belief that as you hit your middle years things would kind of calm down. Not pregnant and changing diapers. Not in the buying-a-home stage any more. My husband’s work and career are stable. I’m fully immersed in raising my children. We’ve been at the same church for years and years and love it. Life should be pretty smooth by now, right? 

Instead I am finding that the role of spectator to my adult children’s lives is a lot more tumultuous than I was anticipating. My husband has learned to ask me, “Do you want me to fix this or just listen?” And I find myself now, as a mom, no longer in the fix-it role for my adult kids, and just in the listen and support role. And so I stand on the sidelines and cheer and pray and try really hard not to worry. (Let me add that they are great kids, making good choices, it’s just really easy to worry.)

I will also add that taking on the role of foster mom has done nothing to make our lives peaceful. Probably the hardest part is, again, the fact that as a foster mom you don’t have a lot of control over the situation. Your job is to love and care for the child, but the child’s future is in the hands of lawyers and judges and bio-families. And you really want to fix-it: I’m going to decide what’s best and that is what we will do. But instead you are only called to support from the sidelines while others make the big decisions. 

Maybe the word I’m looking for here is Control. I think maybe I had this perception that as I got older I would have a lot more control over things. Control means no nasty surprises. It means things go the way you planned.  Calm. Smooth. 

Of course, probably not a lot of personal growth when you control everything. Looking back this past year, I can see a lot of pain. But I also see a lot of change and healing. Growth. I was put in a lot of places I didn’t want to be. As a result, I learned a lot more about forgiveness. Patience. Kindness. Grace. Self Control.

So here I am, middish forties. My son is going off to be a soldier. I have no control over this situation at all. But I’m going to learn a lot more about faith and prayer. Fostering. I can’t control the outcome, but I’m learning a lot more about how to love hurt people. Raising children. You want everything to work out perfectly for them, and it doesn’t. But you learn to trust that God loves them even more than you do and he has a plan. 

I want control because that seems like the path to peace and calm. But really, the path to peace and calm is faith in Jesus. My middle years are full of craziness, but I can also testify that my inner life is a lot more peaceful than when I was in my twenties. My faith is stronger. And I guess that’s the kind of peace and calm that I need. 

Kite Flying

Last Sunday, Easter, we took the kids to the park in the afternoon, and for a special treat, we got all the little kids a plastic kite. The kind they sell cheap at Walmart. We spent the afternoon trying to help six kids get a kite going at the same time, and chaos erupted. I suddenly remembered why we hadn’t flown kites in a long time. Group kite flying is not very fun. Only one child successfully got her kite up and kept it up. Everyone else was frustrated. 

This Sunday, a week later, I decided to return to the park and try this kite thing again. I only took a couple kids with me this time and we only tried to get one kite up in the air at a time. It was also very windy, so I was sure that we would have much better luck. 

Nope. 

I have come to the conclusion that our kites are too cheap. We just don’t have the right kind of kites. This theory was brought home when a guy appeared on the scene later with his two kids. They brought out a beautiful, obviously well-made, professional grade kite. And it flew so high. So beautifully! The kids and I admired from a distance. 

Of course, it also takes some skill. The dad flying the kite passed the string to one of his children and after a while it crashed to the ground. Which makes me think that what our family needs is just one, really nice kite. The older kids can take turns using it and the little kids can watch. 

Quick subject change. I’ve been thinking about control. Lack of control. The need for control. And how that runs contrary to being a Christian. Even to just being human. There is so little that we have control over. We can’t control the weather or any natural disasters that might pop up. We can’t control the spread of viruses. We can’t control cancer. We have very limited control of the actions of people around us. 

Me trying to control my life kind of reminds me of standing out in a field with a cheap kite that has serious design issues, a tangled string that won’t come off the reel in a timely manner, wind that gusts and swirls haphazardly, and the end product is my kite wrapped up in a nearby tree branch.

The Christian walk requires trust and faith, the opposite of control. I have to somehow believe that, first, God loves me. His end goal for me is for me to be with him in Paradise. This time here on earth is a time of refining and growth. Second, God knows what he is doing. The things that happen here are not a surprise to him nor do they hinder God’s will from happening. Third, I am not going to understand everything during this lifetime. Bad things are going to happen that knock me down. I’m not going to be happy with everything that comes my way. Maybe, I’ll be able to look back and see how everything worked out for good, and maybe I will never see how any good came out of it. But, the fourth, and last point is God is good and I can trust him. 

And when I trust him, it’s kind of like handing control of the kite string over to a master. Someone who knows what they are doing. Someone who has the ability to transform my broken kite into a beautiful masterpiece. And that’s the life I want. Me in control is not a pretty thing. Me trusting God makes my life a beautiful thing to see.