This week has been excruciating. There are certain circumstances which are
guaranteed to send me into a full blown death spiral. I’ve come to think of
them as my Triggers of Terror. Those triggers
are specifically related to my children, who are now adults, and extend to my
grandchildren. If I perceive my loved
ones are in danger, that their health, safety or well-being is under serious attack,
I go into panic mode. For years I have considered starting a Mothers of Adult
Children support group, because I really need one! The funny thing is, every time I mention that
idea in passing, every mother of adult children within hearing distance nods
enthusiastically and tells me they would come, so I know I’m not the only one.
What I mean by “death spiral” is that this panic causes me
to frantically plead with God to “fix” whatever is causing the threat, and
quickly deteriorates into demanding that he act immediately to make it go away,
then slides down the slippery slope to anger and finally into doubting his
goodness. I say “finally”, but, sadly, that process isn’t a long one; I arrive
at “finally” in short order! I spent a good part of this week at “finally”.
Thankfully, all the while that my “flesh”, as Paul says in
scripture, was spiraling, my spirit had its own agenda. I am blessed to have a couple of friends, like
you, who I called and asked to pray; friends I knew would tell me of God’s
goodness, sovereignty and grace; friends who “talked me down off the ledge” by reminding
me that God, because of Jesus, was not holding my fear against me; friends who promised
to have faith for me because I couldn’t.
And I couldn’t. My spirit was willing, but my flesh was
ridiculous! No matter how much I told myself that God was in control and loved
my family more than I did, and that he knew what was best, I couldn’t tone down
the panic. I kept trying to figure out
the right way to combat the circumstances so that I could “help”, but my fear
led me first one way and then another in confusion. I wanted to peacefully
trust, but the terror had taken on a life of its own.
Over the years, there have been times when my prayers have
taken the form of an internal dialogue with God. I don’t hear an audible voice or anything
like that, but there is a knowing that God is speaking truth to me, because
suddenly my perspective is changed.
While I was driving to work one morning this week, and I was silently
railing to God about how people who wielded power over this troubling situation
were trying to impose their will, thinking that they knew what was best when
they didn’t, I felt God asking me if I thought that I truly knew what was best
in this situation. I humbly acknowledged that I did not. Then he asked me if I thought that he did,
and I said yes. Then, he told me that I
needed to stop trying to impose my own fear and confusion onto the situation,
and just step aside and let him handle things, because he was bigger and more
powerful than the power wielding people and the circumstances.
I was reminded that, as a young adult, I had never expected
or wanted my mother to take the lead in figuring out what I needed to do; that
I had shared my concerns with her, but that, ultimately, it had never entered
my mind that she was responsible for “fixing” things. It was during my struggles that I developed
my own relationship with God, and learned that he alone was my source of
help. I saw that I needed to allow that
process to happen for my children. I
needed to get out of the way, and when I was tempted to try to direct the show,
I needed to point to God.
I told God, then, that I could see I had made my children into
idols, in the sense that, when troubles arose for them, I put my desire for
their peace, comfort and happiness in front of what God intended for them. God then told me that, while that sounded
almost noble, the real truth was that it wasn’t my children that I had made
into idols, it was my own need to be perceived as a good mother that I had made
into an idol, and that I had to let go of the desire to be the heroic mom who
rides in and saves the day. Those days,
if they ever really existed when my children were little (and they never really
did), were gone.
Ouch; but, Whew! As I was put in my place, it suddenly became
a relief to acknowledge that God was in charge and that, not only did I not
have to be, I was not supposed to be, and didn’t need to be. I exhaled. The existing situation did not change, but my
perspective did.
Will I be forever changed and never fall prey to my triggers
again? Oh, how I hope and pray that is the case! But, whether or not it is, I
know that my fear does not change the fact that God is lovingly and sovereignly
in control of my life and the lives of those I love; and, that even if he has
to remind me of that truth every single day for the rest of my life, he does
not hold my weaknesses against me.
Please keep praying.
Love Always,
Bonnie
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