Getting in the car with my mom I must be prepared for one thing, the possibility she may honk her horn. And I don’t mean a little “toot-toot.” I mean, lay-on-the-horn, blaring-loud-for-all-to-hear kind of honk. It doesn’t end there. Whatever ability she has to demonstrate her displeasure on the outside of the car is only a glimmer compared to her expressions on the inside of the car. And my Mom is a nice person! However, she gets all riled up on the road. Inconsiderate people who pull out in front of her causing her to slam on her brakes. Distracted drivers, talking, or yes, even texting away on their phones. Rushed workers ignorning the lane closure signs to squeeze in at the last possible moment. It infuriates her.
When she rides with me she’ll identify every moment I should utilize my horn. My neglection of such an opportunity produces much discussion as she’ll inform me that I need to let them know what they did so they won’t do it again. There’s where her hope is. It’s not an angry, difficult, short little lady. It’s a woman who intends to help people out, highlight the error of their driving, so they can do it better the next time.
My take is different. Number one, I wonder if the person who pulled out in front of me, or cut me off, may be a mother who has a screaming baby in the car, a tired toddler and an argumentative child. Believe me, that causes some distractions and enough stress without being honked at. Or possibly, it’s a nurse who lives forty-five minutes from the hospital and got called-in before she had a shower or a trace of make-up on her face. It happens. Secondly, and most importantly for me is, I don’t care. I don’t care about honking at someone and getting all worked up over them, because I have no relational connection, nor any ounce of influence on them to change anything. If a driver is flat-out rude, they’re going to be flat-out rude whether I blast my horn or not. It’s just not worth the aggravation to me.
Now don’t misunderstand me. I do get worked up. I do get riled to the point of feeling steam come out my ears. Okay, not quite steam, but you get the picture. Flaming mad. Like Anger on Disney’s Inside Out or Donald Duck when he’s “had it up to here!” (Yes, that’s what he sometimes says, although it almost requires a translator to comprehend his lines.)
I tend to get all upset with things I think I have control over. Emphasis given to the word, “think.” It’s like a quantitative study. I have variables in an experiment. The independent variable is manipulated to produce the dependent variable. Since my lab puppy, sweet little Ruby Sue, is turning one this weekend, let’s consider dog food. The type of dog food is an independent variable because it’s something I can change (or manipulate), and the results I get are the dependent variables like her weight, her likability to the food, and maybe her coat being more shiny.
If I have no influence on the outcome, I don’t get too engaged. It’s that whole, “it is what it is” kind of situation; “que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.”
But let me share with you where I do get hung up. It’s again, in those areas I think I have control.
My parents were told, on more than one occassion, during my years of rehabiliation from my burn injury that I may develop an addiction to narcotics. I’ll share more about the topic when the book project pieces together, but for now, let me focus on this subject of control. Although I desire to be as out-of-it as possible when I’m recovering from surgeries, I’m quite eager to stop taking the medication when I no longer need it, because I don’t feel in control when I’m in a fog. Too much of my childhood was out of my control. As an adult, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the care I received. Absolutley overwhelmed. I’m living a life today because of the care I received. Nevertheless, I remember as a child wanting control over the situations I had absolutley none.
Memories of being restrained, with my arms braced out to my side, unable to move. Memories of a tube down my throat breathing for me, but occluding my ability to communicate. Screaming for help when those precious nurses were tearing bandages off my raw body. Fighting against amazing physical therapists as they ripped scar tissue to stretch my contractured body.
Yes, I have control issues.
I also have a good, good Father who loves me as I am, but desires me to grow in Him. Just as He provides opportunities to make the impatient patient and the prideful humble; He’s given me many opportunities to release control and grow in trust.
A reoccurring theme for 2015 was trust. As I felt challenged in 2014 to rest, 2015 was about trust. Here’s a bit of what I journaled toward the end of the year…
As I’ve sought the Lord, as He’s challenged me to trust Him, using situations to strengthen my trust muscle, I can see the control shatter. I needed to be here and He was preparing the time for me. I needed to grow in the quality, in this characteristic.
‘Do you trust God?’ Yes, I’ve always trusted God. However, do I trust God when I have no control, no influence over the outcome, when I have nothing to contribute, or even manipulate? Not in a bad manipulate-evil-devising way, but in a manipulate as, take it in my own hands and change what it needs, or what I think it needs to be, to form it and mold it on my own. Do I trust God even then?
Oh, how I thought He was teaching me through the writing to trust Him. Oh, how I thought He was teaching me through the speaking to trust Him. Oh, how I thought my obedience to step away from full-time nursing was trusting Him, or being given our website was trusting Him- but, those situations were PREPARING me for the biggest trust exercise the Lord could have set before me….
I know where my desire to control comes from. It’s fear. I wanted control when I was little because I was scared. Not much has changed. I still to this day fight fear. The fear is a bit different, but I fight nevertheless. But again, God is so loving and kind towards me. His Word says, “perfect love casts out fear” (I John 4:18). Which means I don’t have to be in control. I just need to trust in Him.
Fear has no place. You serve a great God! And the same power that raised Jesus from the grave lives in you (Romans 8:11). Remember that fact, and exercise that muscle to trust in the face of any fear this year!
Isaiah 30:15 ESV For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and REST you shall be saved; in quietness and in TRUST shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling,
This was one of the verses I’ve stood on, encompassing the Lord’s challenge for me to rest in 2014 and to trust in 2015. But unlike the people of Israel, may we be willing.
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