My phone
rang. It was my dad calling. It was that phone call that no one wants to get.
Bad news. It was the phone call that informed me that my mom has been diagnosed
with a rare form of early onset Dementia. In that moment, my world froze, but
my mind spun faster and faster, threatening to throw me off my feet at any
second. What do we do now? What am I going to do? How is this happening? All
these questions spilled over into my consciousness as certain facts stared me
in the face: She’s 55 years old. These issues do not run in our family.
Ever since
that phone call, I have been the most out of control that I have ever been. I
am naturally a pretty controlled person, only displaying certain thoughts and
emotions that I know certain people can handle and holding them back when I know
others cannot handle my inner world. Along with this, I have always had a
strong desire for control. I plan things days, weeks, and sometimes months in
advance. I line up my goals and plans according to my own little “perfect”
timing. I know where I’m going and when I want to arrive there. Basically, I
take the reins of my life from God as often as I can. Let’s be honest, I am the
god of my life when I am trying to be in control and have this semblance of control.
When I say that I am now the most out of control that I’ve ever been, I mean
that I do not make plans very far ahead. I sometimes make no plans at all and let
whatever happens happen in my day. I cry randomly in a conversation, listening
to a song, driving home, getting dressed, doing laundry… and when I cry, I slow
down, and I just cry. Sometimes this looks like me sitting down or laying down
wherever I am and just crying it out and then picking myself back up and going
about my business as I wipe the tears away and do a quick mirror check of my
eye makeup. My last cry-fest found me laying in my closet as I attempted to put
on my shoes to go to the grocery store. Grief doesn’t care about my trip to the
grocery store, and it certainly doesn’t care about my striving for control. In
fact, grief delights to take away my “control” by laughing in my face that I am
really in control of very little. It hastens to remind me that I cannot control
myself right now, and I cannot control what is happening to my mom, the one person who
loves me more than anyone on this planet. I cannot save her, I cannot switch
places with her no matter how much I wish I could, and I cannot change what’s
happening.
Recently, it
occurred to me that God is out to strip away from me my strong desire for
control. Most of my readers know that I have had four jobs and moved three
times within a year’s time, and most know that I hate change. Things happened
beyond my control that pretty much forced me to have so many jobs and places to
call “home.” As one friend put it, it’s quite obvious that God is taking away
my “security blanket,” my semblance of control.
Grief (ultimately
God using grief) has been a stern and faithful teacher in removing my security
blanket. One of my new favorite Switchfoot songs called, “Liberty,” has a lyric
that says: “…give up the semblance of control…” I cannot get that one lyric out
of my mind as He whispers to me, “Britt, your control is truly an illusion.” I
have so much further yet to go in my journey of being stripped of my desire for
control, but I have learned much already. Grief has taught me that we are all
mortal, and that this human body will break down more and more every day until the
day that Jesus welcomes us into Heaven. And, no one has control over when that
day will be. Grief has taught me that not only do we not have control over
death, but that we actually have control of very little in life. Also, I find
myself at times wanting to live life at my normal speed and plow ahead with
making all sorts of plans until I hear a whisper that says, “Stop. When you do
this, you are trying to be Me. Let me bring you the life that I want for you
day by day.”
I have
amazing people in my life who regularly ask me how I’m doing. I recently
responded like this to a friend when answering this question: “I’m my new
normal… ok with moments of feeling crappy. I’m just telling myself that it’s ok
for me to operate in one speed lately: slow.” I don’t do slow at pretty much
anything in my life. Like. At. All. Slow is not in my vocabulary unless we’re
talking about the imminent development of wrinkles on my face. Grief is
teaching me how to slow way down and give up my semblance of control to the
only One who is really worthy to have ultimate control of my life. There are
times when I feel like I am kicking and screaming during these hard lessons
that God is teaching me through my grief, but I know that they are lessons planned for me by
One who loves me more than I could ever imagine. I know my circumstances break
His heart. Despite this, He does not allow my pain to be wasted and uses my
pain to strip away things I’ve been holding onto for most of my life. I do not
have time or space to go into other things that He is stripping me of during
this grieving process of losing my mom slowly, but there is no doubt that He is
taking away my security blanket because He knows that a 27 year old with a
security blanket is just flat out ridiculous and cannot continue for the woman
of faith that He wants me to be. Although He takes away, I know that He will
add something much greater. I pray that I truly learn these difficult lessons
that He wants to teach me. I ask that as my friends and readers of this post,
that you would also pray this for me.
"Liberty" - Switchfoot
