Surrender, part 3

Sometimes – usually – it is outside of our control.

In fact, almost everything in my life is outside of my control.  And yet, I have this incredible need to feel like I have some input.  But I don’t.

My schedule, my travel, even when I am awake or asleep – all of these are influenced by various people and entities.  All of these require some form of compromise, communication, and cooperation.

About the only thing I actually can do on my own, is rearrange the icons on the desktop of this computer.

For the past couple of days, I’ve had this overwhelming feeling of impossibility.  In some ways it is claustrophobic.  In many other ways, it is quite demoralizing.  There is no map, no directions, and no app on my phone that will guide my next steps.  So?  Now what?

“At a very young age, I learned to surrender to the process…”

As I reclined in the dental chair yesterday, trying to ignore the hideous scraping of the hygienist’s pick and the bright fluorescent light shining in my eyes, some old feelings washed over me.  We are all familiar with that dental experience, but very few have spent as many hours in that chair as I have.  Countless oral surgeries, 13 years of orthodontia, and a whole mess of other procedures – I estimate I’ve probably spent approximately a gazillion hours in that chair – with other people’s hands in my mouth – hurting me.

At a very young age, I learned to surrender to the process.  I knew it was necessary.  I knew I had no choice.  I would just lie there, relax, obey their commands, and try not to choke on my own drool.  I ignore the pain, I ignore the mouth splitting intrusion, and I ignore the total invasion of my space.  It is what it is.

So yesterday, as I lay there, ignoring the scrape, scrape, scrape – I just surrendered.  I let go, let God, and trusted Him.  It was a good place to be.