Control.

On the surface, it seems like a great concept. I’m a type A, so I’m all for it.

You are the captain of your ship, the master of your destiny.

Except you’re not. At least, not always.

Because if I could control everything, my Mom would still be here.

And even now, ten months on, that’s still what I wish. That my Mom would still be here.

And if we were in control, I’m sure a lot of us would want to change something. For ourselves or for someone we love.

Change something to keep them from the pain.

For a long time, I thought I could control my way out of any situation, out of hurt or confusion. That by being the most organized, the most together, thinking ahead, looking around every corner, being prepared, I could spare myself. Honestly, I still try.

When your heart breaks. When you experience crazy pain. When you can’t change the thing you most wish you could change. You realize you have to stop putting your faith in control. In what you can do or what you think you can do.

You have to lay it down.

And there is One who will pick up what you carry. And then will pick up you.

But I have to hand it over. Hand over control, hand over the outcome.

Do you ever notice that the moment before we release things, there is this burst of holding on tighter? One last grasp at what I can do on my own.

And it doesn’t work. Because we are made to be in community and in communion. We are made for sharing the load.

So I pray to let go, lay it down, and rest.