I am admittedly a control freak. Well, I will say, I was. For the last year and a half, I have given up control of absolutely everything to God. Ironically, this has been absolutely, by far, the most difficult year of my life. I think that there is a time, when you can become so dissatisfied with numbness and apathy, you get desperate. It has happened to me twice in my life that I can think of.
During my early twenties, at the ending of my first marriage, my ongoing depression hit me full force. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Most of the people I knew then, with the exception of two of my closest friends, thought that it was because of my divorce; even my family believed so. That was not the truth. My absolute self loathing and desperation not to return to my family of origin was the cause of my debilitating depression. It took years for me to dig out of the hole I had dug for myself since I was 15. I spiraled myself into a two year long absence from life. I went to work, and I came home. I watched t.v. endlessly. I hopped from relationship to relationship desperate to hide from what might be awaiting me. I didn't know how to be alone. At the end of my two year spiral, I did something out of the ordinary. I was on the verge of an end to another relationship, and I said, to God, out loud, "God, if this is not what I am supposed to have, please just give me what I am supposed to have." And He did. I got married to the love of my life, and had four beautiful children.
The second time was far more recent. My apathy and numbness stemmed, I think, from the overwhelming feeling that I was missing something. Not someone, something. Sure, I was busy with the kids, homeschooling, and the business we own, but I felt really disconnected. I had read a book, called Crazy Love, by Francis Chan. Then, I read Forgotten God, also by Francis Chan. The latter led me to give up and over control to God. I said, "You can have everything. I'm tired of feeling so empty, and I need to believe I can do something in this world, something to make a difference. " Thus began our journey of Safe Families, and 13 placements in 1 year. Children to love on and nurture. Families to keep together, or help be apart safely and with compassion. My introduction to Kolfe orphanage in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, bore fruit in a son to love and care for via email and contact with other Kolfe Moms. I have learned how to care for someone very deeply, but at a distance I'm not sure I will be able to bridge in the next few years. I gave up control of my life as I knew it, and I was blessed.
Then, something happened. My WHOLE LIFE turned absolutely upside down. We lost our home, moved in with my mother (family of origin from earlier in the post ;) ) and had to give up every semblance of normal that we had as a family, known. Because of the field we are in, the economy hit us hard. We have had to struggle with money and debt more than I ever thought possible. Really, monetarily, we have lost everything, with no safety net. (Even though I tried to keep one in place, it had to be burned through to move forward.) My husband has had the most difficult three years in probably his whole life and struggles every day to keep it together. My son is hospitalized for threatening suicide with a knife. My daughter is suffering from years of watching and experiencing the effects of her brother's illness. My seven year old is seemingly running down the same path as my oldest son who is in the hospital. My five year old, normally jolly and full of laughter, cries at the drop of a hat, and holds his hands over his ears whenever someone raises their voice. Now, I have to wonder, is this what I asked for? Is this what giving up control means? I mean, in terms of being broken, this is BROKEN. There are days that I can barely stand. I am consumed by the burdens all around me, waiting to be swallowed up. I am crying out every moment of every day, lately. I am lost and have no idea what to do, or how to fix this. Then, I realize, I can't. I can't fix it. This is beyond any kind of fixing I could ever hope to do. So, where does that leave me? In God's hands, I guess.
I pray for my oldest son, that he will find strength and courage within himself, and find a way to love himself through all of his problems. I pray for my husband, who needs deep love and compassion to heal his life long struggles. I pray for my daughter, who suffers silently and never complains. I pray for my seven year old, that he will realize his full potential no matter what struggles may come. I pray for relief and laughter for my five year old, that he will again know safety and happiness completely. I pray for myself, that I can find strength, compassion and patience, even when I feel like I'm drowning. I pray for friends who are family, and the world at large, that even in struggles, blessings abound.
I'm not sure of God's plan, but I know that my controlling things all these years has not done much except to make me realize that I have not had the effect I've been looking for. Since I gave up my life to God, things have become more difficult than I could ever have imagined. But then, I think, what if I hadn't? Maybe my son wouldn't be in a hospital, maybe he'd still be struggling and come to a point that crying out for help was not an option. Maybe my daughter would still be grappling with all of the family problems alone in herself, without the help of a compassionate therapist to help her through. Maybe my seven year old would have run away like he has drawn himself doing so many times. Maybe my five year old would have lost his laughter entirely. Maybe I would have become so disconnected and selfish that I couldn't see what was happening all around me.
I honestly never believed things would have changed to the degree that they have. Good or bad, who's to say? What looks bad in the short term can actually turn for good in the long run. Without our terrible financial situation, my son might not be getting the level of help and advocacy he is afforded now because of our situation. As a control freak, I am used to doing things all on my own, all of the time. It is difficult to accept help without strings attached, because that is what I learned in my family of origin; everything comes with strings.
The question is, then, is this losing control, or gaining freedom? I am still learning. I am advocating for my son, but I am no longer doing it alone. I have resources never available before. I have seen people come from unexpected places to help me. Maybe losing control is the key to being free.
As I navigate these next months with uncertainty, I know still that we are blessed, even when I grieve that things are not as I would have them. I hope, in years to come, my son will feel that I did the right thing in giving up control. I hope that he believes that God is holding him, the way I did when he was so very little. God, I hope so.
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