I used to have plans. Every day, I had a plan. And I was really good about completing my plans.
My daily to-do lists were always neatly organized, and always completed.
The check-mark and I were good pals.
But I was young(er) back then.
I was young, and I was single.
I was young, single, and I did not have a baby.
Or any serious responsibilities beyond amusing myself.
With each new step in life, there are serious gains. I would not trade where I am for anything.
But there are still moments when I mourn the losses -- just a little bit. I know that in the losses, there are still gains. Like learning how to be selfless (because I was not born a selfless human being). Or learning how to sacrifice (because for most of my life, sacrificing was not a blessing. Now I see it is the biggest Blessing of all). And seeing how my losses sometimes benefit others (because I am constantly realizing it's not all about me).
And I'm learning to relinquish control.
Or, the facade of control.
Because, well, the reality is I wasn't ever in control, now was I?
And now, even if I wanted to pretend I still had control, I just can't. The reality is I can make plans and lists and expect the day to go one way, and then something hits me out of left field. Like a car breaking down. Or a baby refusing to nurse. Or a beautiful day lost because I have to stay indoors for a variety of reasons. Or feeling exhausted every second of every day. Or. Or. Or.
No. I'm not in control.
And when I think that that's a bad thing, I remember that I should be thankful -- abundantly, on-my-knees-grateful -- because this world -- my world -- would be a messy, dismal place if I was calling all the shots.
So when I am mourning the loss of my control-freak-facade, I ask God to remind me that this is a better reality in which to dwell.
Thank-you, Lord, for being in control.