Tag Archives: control

It was then that I carried you.

I am a control freak.  I freely admit it.  I like to be the one driving the car.  I like to be the one who has all the answers. I like to be able to fix things, people and situations.

Well, it is something I am keenly aware of in my life, and, let’s just say, I am working on it.

My control freakishness rears its ugly head sometimes when I least expect it. Just when I think I’ve got my control issues “under control”, I realize I don’t. Most recently and most frequently, my need to control is related to my children.  My two beautiful gifts. They are my whole world.  They are the two most amazing people on the planet, in my opinion. Like any other mom, I want the best for them. I want them to be fulfilled and happy.

They are growing up so fast; it is scary to me. Their childhood is slipping away before my very eyes. The control freak in me has a very difficult time with this, as you can imagine. I want them to make good choices and blossom into the people God has planned for them to become. I want them to grow up, but I don’t want them to grow up. It is a constant tug-of-war. Makes me feel kinda schizo sometimes.

I often cling to the words of Jeremiah 29:11:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

I hold fast to these words for my children.  I trust that God has a plan for them. So often, I say to God, I know You are in control. I know You’ve got this…But let me just help You along a bit, okay? I often pray and say, I’m giving this to You, Lord—only to take it back from Him five minutes later.  Surely we can all identify with that struggle.

Jacob, my son and firstborn, is 16 years old now. He is a high school junior. When he was 5 years old and diagnosed as having Asperger’s Syndrome, I could not see this far down the road—I could not see past the next five minutes. I had no idea what his future would look like. And yet, here we are. Now is the future I couldn’t imagine back in 2000. He has made huge strides since then and we are so proud of him. He still has hurdles; he always will. And I still don’t know what the future will look like for him as a man.

I realize that I won’t always be right there to hold his hand and say, now remember your homework assignment or did you put on your deodorant or change your clothes or say hello to the man or, well, you get the picture. I desperately want to make sure he is okay and it is so hard to let go and allow him to go it alone and endure those situations that can be challenging for him.  I want to do things for him. To control the environment so he doesn’t get upset when there is a loud laugh-y lady in the restaurant who, I know, is making his skin crawl. To remind him to use the tools his doctor has taught him to help manage his anxiety. And don’t even talk to me about him driving a car! OY!

He is not like other boys his age who are out playing their soccer games and driving their cars and going out with their friends and girlfriends. He is a loner. He is happy to hang out by himself or with his family. He is not really interested in connecting with people. Going to parties or crowded places is not high on his list of things to do. He is not super motivated when it comes to his school work and does not really seem to have an idea of what he wants to do with his life. Naturally, I worry. He does not fit in the traditional mold of the typical kid…and that is okay. He is truly fantastic and I think he is awesome. But I have to be realistic and know that the world likes “typical”. Unfortunately, a world that likes “typical” is not always accepting of “atypical”.

It is that constant struggle of helping him become independent and doing too much for him. Helping him find his way, without telling him what that is. That whole “give them roots, but give them wings” thing. Finding the balance is a very difficult thing. Should he take the SAT or the ACT? Will he go to college? Will he be able to support himself? Will he find someone who will love him for who he is and who will want to share her life with him?  Are we doing the right things to help him? Who will make sure he is okay when his dad and I are gone?

These are the things I lose sleep over.

And then, I am quietly reassured—Fear not. I am reminded, God loves him more that I ever could. God knows the answers to all those questions that constantly swirl around in my worried brain. He truly is in control—whether we give Him that control or not.

I see, in my mind’s eye, me carrying my two children in my arms.  Just wandering around carrying them. Then, I see myself carrying them, one by one, and laying them at the feet of Jesus. Then, Jesus bends down and picks all three of us up in His arms, like we are light as a feather, and, walking away, carries us all.

It is remarkable the peace I feel when I let Him carry it all.

When He is carrying everything, He carries my worry. I don’t have to worry about the future, because He is carrying that too. And He is carrying us there to that future—wherever “there” is. And I don’t have to worry about that either.

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will hold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

So, today, I ball my worries up and throw them as far away as I can. Far up into the heavens so that I can no longer see them.  Some days, that ball is more like a boomerang, coming back to me and smacking me in the head once I’ve turned to walk away. But, today, it is okay. Today, I refuse to pick the worries back up.  I’m going to let Jesus carry them all day. He does a way better job than I do.

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Filed under Inspiration, Jacob

Freaky Friday

I’ve been thinking about what I want to say about what has been happening around my casa the last few days.  And I have wanted to post something to keep my vast readership apprised of the state of our union…or disunion, that is…of Emma’s bones.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that Emma broke her left leg a month ago and you’ve read about our cast adventures and our shoplifting adventures. 

Last Friday, when we went in to visit our orthopedist for another set of x-rays and a new cast, we got a bit of a surprise. That is a gross understatement.  We got a huge shock.  Emma’s bones had not only shifted and angulated and shortened somehow, but they had also not healed. At all. Now, I learned a long time ago that, in general, asking “why?” in these kinds of situations gets you nowhere, so I did not immediately go to “now, why and how did that happen?”.  I did immediately go to “crap, crap, crap” and “this really, really, sucks” and “this is not what was supposed to be on the x-rays”, though.  The doc and I were looking at the x-rays in another room away from Emma, so when I started feeling my heart race and a little light-headed, I told the doc I needed to sit down and then I lost my mind. I was truly blown away by the news. Had myself a little breakdown right there in front of the doc and told him I needed a minute to collect myself.  All the while, feeling terrible because we had left Emma alone in the cast room. 

Let me also say here, that last Friday, the same day of Emma’s appointment, was also the day that her best friend moved to Texas. She was already feeling sad about that and was teary on the way to the doctor.  Once I collected myself, we went back to the cast room to share with Emma what was about to happen.  We’ve called it a poopy double whammy. Needless to say, she was a sad, sad, girl.  Which made me a sad, sad mama.  Oh, how it hurts to see your babies hurting.

God is funny.  Y’all ever heard the saying, tell God your plans and then listen to Him laugh?  Well, I thought I had been asking God to show us some beautiful straight bones on those x-rays.  And truly believing that was what we would see. Perhaps I had been telling Him to get in line with my plans. And it looks like all the while, God had other plans. And because I trust God, I trust that His plans are always better.

So, tomorrow, Thursday, my baby girl is having surgery to repair her bones. And so we press on.  Because this is what is. 

Then we look for the good news. 

The good news is that once the bones are plated and screwed, they will be fixed.  And once they are fixed, Emma will not need a long leg cast anymore.  They will fit her with some sort of short leg splint.  A short leg splint will greatly improve her mobility, which is a big plus. It took us a bit, but we have come to a place of acceptance that this is the best fix for Emma’s leg.  She is naturally anxious, but doing okay. And I am learning (re-learning over and over) that I am a control freak and that I, in my own strength and power, have no control at all in this situation.  My kids are not mine after all. 

It will be hard for her to start over with the pain and with the healing time. But, we won’t be worried about bones healing badly.  It is going to be okay.  God is good, always. Even when the unexpected happens.

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Filed under Emma, Faith, Lessons