Working at resting

It's normal and expected to work when it is time to work, although some people play at working (that's a different topic).  But often, I have a hard time resting. 

Less so now, but when I first realized the value of resting, it was like my skin had the jitters.  

Resting can mean getting enough sleep - and although that's important, that's not what I mean here.  I mean being in that state of mind that so trusts God and so lets go of the need to fix stuff that only He's supposed to fix (no matter how long it takes) - that the worries and anxieties don't have a chance to take root.  

It took me a fair amount of time to begin to learn how to rest ... actively. Yes, to work at resting.  I still have to work at it. 

Let me give an example - something pretty close to home.  

A while ago, my daughter decided that she wanted to apply for a Canadian passport.  The reason she wanted one was because she had / still has a friend in the States and she wanted to visit.  Maybe even to go and live there.  

My reaction?  Instant panic.

I got this photo royalty-free HERE

The questions abounded, big and little. What if it doesn't work out? how much will it cost us for her to travel / move all that way? will she be able to survive down there with no safety net? what about her plans to go to school or get a job here? are those put on hold or will they EVER come to pass? What will she do to communicate with us? Will I have to take her off my cell phone plan?  What if she gets stranded with no money of her own? What if she gets sick and has to see an American doctor - how much will THAT cost? Will we survive financially? And worst - what if we never see her again?  

On and on the questions tumbled, one after the other, especially when her passport arrived - just a few days ago.  I get a bit of respite from the questions once in a while, but they just keep popping up at odd moments, usually when I am trying to enjoy something else.  The panic grows if I let it, and sometimes it comes unbidden - even wakes me up and I have to work hard at dealing with it. 

Feeling those feelings of uncertainty ... isn't wrong.  It's okay to be concerned about a loved one, to feel unsure about the future. But when it takes over my life, when I can't sleep because it robs me of peace, then it is a problem.  And when I try to manipulate the outcome by using guilt and shame, or intimidation - it ends up pushing my loved one away and giving me the very outcome that I fear most.  

Every.  Time.  

It takes a great deal of effort to force my focus back onto the basics, the most important things, the fundamental truths of faith: God is in control. Of everything.  I have no control over outcomes; only He does.  He loves both me and my daughter; He will look after me ... and her. I need to relax my grip, to learn to let go.  The work part is in the fact that I have to keep reminding myself of what is most important.  

As the time draws closer and closer to her departure (not even sure of THAT date!) it's really tempting to panic all over again.  I can admit that I'm scared. That's okay - it's okay to be scared.  What isn't okay is for me to ping all over the place and react (usually badly) and let my fears rule my behavior.  

When I work on resting, I know peace.  The knots loosen in my stomach. I remind myself that letting go of my need to have my hands on it - even if she makes mistakes - is the only way to do that.  I accept what is.  Even if I am scared.

It's a lesson that I keep having to learn with every situation.  But I have the assurance that God's not going to give up on me.  And neither should I.

Close to home

I was doing what I normally do late in the evening: watching TV, keeping an eye on facebook, and chatting back and forth with my husband from time to time, when I heard her voice from the corner of the room.  Oh, she's home early from her night out with friends, I thought.  Slowly, I turned my attention away from my TV program to what she was saying, because her tone of voice sounded ... I dunno ... "off." 

My instincts were correct.  She was crying softly.  Her boyfriend was wiping her tears from her face.  His arm was around her.

I caught something she said about an accident with a car as she talked to her sister.  At first, I thought that she was the one who'd been in an accident. (Instant adrenaline.  Whoa Nellie, she's standing right there; she's fine.)  Then I heard her refer to "him" and "his family" - and understood that it was one of her friends who'd been in the accident.  She and her boyfriend had come upon the accident while they were out - stopped because they recognized the vehicle - and saw their injured friend, and spoke with the paramedics as they worked.  Or with the patient - I wasn't clear on that part. My daughter was understandably shaken; they both were as they stood there explaining the scene to us.

The young man wasn't killed, but could very well have been, given the circumstances of the accident: the lady driving the car and turning left didn't see him on his motorbike even though he was right in front of her and HE had the right of way because he was going straight ahead. Her car struck him on his left side and sent him flying - the impact dislocated his left hip (OUCH), gashed his left thigh deeply, missing his femoral artery by a few inches, and (at this point) the doctors are even thinking he might have gotten whiplash to his neck when he landed on the pavement. The bike was totaled, of course. They resolved the hip dislocation last evening (ouch AGAIN), and then took him to surgery to repair the damage to his thigh muscle.  He's still in hospital, and called them this morning when he awoke. And I'm sure that in another hour, his friends (including my daughter) will all be by his side during visiting hours until the hospital personnel say that visiting hours are over and it's time to go home. 

Got this photo HERE

After she and her boyfriend went to another part of the house last night to man the phones and arrange overnight visits and such, my thoughts dwelt on that young man and his family.  I couldn't stop myself from thinking about how I would feel if it was MY kid laying on a gurney, having to have his hip snapped back into its socket, and then lined up for surgery - and looking at months of physiotherapy to recover and regain range of motion again.  I began to pray for him and his family ... and to thank God intensely for the fact that it WASN'T my kid in the hospital.  

Sometimes all it takes is a tragedy (or a near-tragedy) not even happening to us, but happening that close to home, for us to realize just how much we take for granted on a daily basis.  

My husband and I were pretty somber when we went to bed last night.  And we talked about how we might complain about this behavior and that behavior, but when push comes to shove, we'd be right there beside our youngsters if either one of them needed us.  And we started counting our blessings - something we hadn't been doing for a while: long overdue, in fact. 

The experience being that "close to home" made us incredibly grateful, mostly that:
- the young man was NOT killed.
- it wasn't our kid(s) who got hurt.  (I know, selfish, but it is what it is...)
- our daughter cared that much about her friends that she was willing to drop everything she was planning to do, in order to be there for them.
- she trusted us enough to tell us what was happening and to be real in front of us without fear of being judged. 

If more people had friends like her, if more people WERE friends like her, perhaps the world wouldn't be in the mess it is in right now.  I'm so proud of the way she has handled this whole thing: feeling what she is feeling, showing her concern, and making herself available to meet whatever need existed.  And of how she is following up with her presence, to show her support and her love.

I'm so glad SHE's close to home, too.

Special days - special people

We had a birthday in the house today. Somebody turned 21. She was the star of the day. Everything revolved around her!! And we loved doing that for her!!

Birthdays are special times when we can lavish attention on the people we love and nobody criticizes us for spoiling them. We get outside ourselves, outside our little lives, pursuits, and schedules, and let something be about someone else for a change.

I wonder though. Why do we have to wait until someone's birthday or anniversary to tell someone how much they mean to us? How many of us have wished - after someone we love has moved away (in this world or out of it) - that we had told or showed that person how much he or she meant to us? How many hours, weeks, years have we wasted being so busy making a living that we forgot to make a life with the people we love? How many older people do we know who are alone and lonely because their family members only got criticism and never knew they were loved, so they never even phone home?

Who are the people in our lives who made us feel special? wanted? loved? accepted? I have known people like that in my life; most of them were people who never knew how much their attention, their openness meant to me when I was growing up. Special memories, made all the more special because they were so rare. Some of them I was able to approach and tell what their influence meant to me...and I am so glad that I did. It wasn't hard. A personal note in a greeting card. A thank you note. An email (a real one - not a forward!!) A text. And lately - just writing a message to someone or putting something on their wall on Facebook.

It's a whole new perspective on things. I remember what it's like to try and do something for someone and have him or her cut it all to pieces before I hear the words (if ever, that is), "Thank you." I decided that just for today, and for all the todays I can, I can try to look for the yes, the positive, the uplifting, the encouraging word. Not just for what others do, not just for what God does (although it starts there) but also for what I do. I am way too hard on myself, and I think that I am hard on others because of it. So - why not I give us both a break?

I'm learning that it doesn't take much effort to build someone up rather than tear him or her down. To see the positive first, rather than the negative.

It just takes a little re-training of my mind, a little bit of faith in myself and in others ... and a whole lot of gratitude to God.