Letting Go of Me

He did it again. We're going to have to call him Rebound Man and make a special super hero costume for him I think. Today was the second time within six months that it looked for certain Dad was on his way. But just like the last time, the tensions of the morning come cautiously around the corner of midday, only to bash into the afternoon's big smile and hearty 'Amen!', trademarks of....(echo effect here) REBOUND MAN!

By supper, when Dad was resting well with good colour again, I felt two things most keenly. One was that familiar knee-weaky-sensation of the post adrenalin dip. As much as I tend to walk through days like this with an air of calm, I am enough self-aware to realize that the threat of losing Dad was very real in my psyche, and my body has responded accordingly. I am spent...and I did nothing today but sit beside his bed and hold Dad's hand.

I did nothing today...which leads me to the other thing I'm feeling. Unspeakably frustrated. A day that was lining up so perfectly, a day badly needed by my randomness-battered schedule, a day where I was finally getting that sense that I was catching up, not having to sneak work in on a Saturday, be confidently ready for Sunday, solidly in "Quadrant II" (a good place to be for us organizational geeks).....and just as I was getting into it, it gets snatched away. For what? Another false alarm?

Please understand that when the time comes for either of my parents, the priorities are clear and the excellent "other players" in my life will be immediately deployed. I know I'm not indispensable, and that competent team members and good structures will prevail in the time of my absence.

But this just feels like cosmic highway robbery. It was a hard day to lose to an emotional game of "PSYCHE!!!!"

Last Sunday at Highview we put bricks of ruthless trust into a wheelbarrow of faith. It was a symbolic gesture, something we do from time to time on a Sunday morning, this time indicating our willingness to give over our precious things to the Jesus who wants to take us on the ride of our lives. Charles Blondin, the daredevil who crossed Niagara Falls on a highwire, daring spectators to get in his wheelbarrow, was the inspiration for our symbolism.

"Rise, rise, people of God arise. Give yourself away. We're not safe, we're not safe but we will rise"....we sang as we picked up the coloured sponge bricks and tossed them in. I did not hesitate. By now it feels like I've let go of so much at such cost, that such an exercise for me seems redundant almost. Yes Lord. I wave the white flags and hand over my blueprints and toss in my bricks with genuine abandon.

But today I realized that there was a brick still finger-numbingly clutched in my hand. I recognized again how hard it is for me to let go of my "list", of all the things I want to do in a given day. How excruciating it is for me to have work left undone that could have been so done, so checked off. How crazy it makes me not to be able to work as hard as I'd like. And how hard it is to flex with the grace God just might require of me on any given day.

Because I want it my way. And I want nothing to stop me from my attaining my treasure of high performance living.

Why am I even frustrated about this, getting to this place in my soul, on a day when my Dad almost died? Why am I not writing anecdotes about his life and my memories? I will. When the time is real, I'll be there. But not today.

So what to do?

Not sure. I'm still too ticked.

But I am ending my day more consciously having to repeat my first morning prayer disicpline. "Good morning Lord. The day is Yours. Do with me as You see fit this day. I submit myself to Your agenda." turns to "Forgive me God. I obviously didn't mean it."

And I am breathing in and out quietly right now. I have my hands open and upward as I prepare for bed. And I'm praying...

Forgive me God. I obviously didn't mean it.
I know my heart is still inclined to me and not You, or even others, the way it should be.
I relinquish all my desires for accomplished things, and whatever trappings of accolades that come along with all of that
into Your capabilities for grace and love and humility and truth.

Dad is Yours. His timing is Yours.
I am Yours, and all I seek to do for You,
I acknowledge again,
is Yours to orchestrate,
with crescendos and diminishings
like You did today.
It's organic not linear
and can't be checked off a list.

So be very God, as You so very are and were in this day.

For you are God and I am not. I am so not.

Thank You for another reminder today.
And thanks for whatever time I still have to learn from and love my Dad.