Open Hands

Violet has been extra cuddly in the mornings on account of the time change; she can’t bring herself to go to bed at her normal time because “the sky is awake and so am I!”  Consequently, when I go to get her out of her crib at 6:15, she isn’t standing up waiting for me.  Instead she’s cuddling with her stuffed babies, and she holds tight to them when I lift her out. 

                Her grip on Miss Kitty and hippo pillow was especially tight this morning, and I needed to get her nightgown off and her school clothes on.  “I’ll give it right back,” I promised her.  “Just let go for a minute so we can take this sleeve off your arm.  I'll hold Miss Kitty for you.”  Two arms times one nightgown off and one shirt on equals a whole lot of giving up, and she had to think long and hard each time I asked.  (Little wonder I am eternally late to work.)  Those babies are comfort objects in the dark early morning, and even though they were faithfully returned to her each time, each letting go was an act of trust.

                I suspect that the process of letting go will never be easy; perhaps it gets easier as faith grows, but it is never easy to open your hands and relinquish control.  I’m struggling with letting go of my house, my job, my church, and my proximity to my greatest help and champion: my mom...if this move actually happens. They are good things.  Three of them comfort me, and the job…well…it is just nice to know that I can support myself and the kids if I have to.  I like not relying on anyone else, you know?  So in a round-about way, I guess the job is a source of comfort, too. And my mom?  Well, she needs the kids and I, too.  It seems so terribly unfair to go so far away when she's already lost my dad.

                Trust is a hard thing, whether it means relying on God to truly fulfill our needs or relying on my husband to provide well and be generous with his family.  I am trying to hold tight to God’s request to trust him with all my heart and not depend on my own understanding.  I’m used to depending on my understanding, though.  I am used to being independent and resilient.  In this situation, however, I don’t know how to start.  I have no choice but to open my hand and let go….minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day.