This morning I was rolling a skein of yarn into a ball as I was listening to contemporary Christian music stream through my Echo device. The Holy Spirit chose that odd few minutes to remind me of a time when I was struggling.
Back in 1998 I was working as a high school teacher in a small northwest Iowa town 18 miles south of my home. I had two small children, Caleb and Kaylee, whom I of course loved with a kind of love that I really had never known before. As my husband and I raised these two, we were both working full-time and I was pursuing my master's degree in education. At the time I was also completely overcome with anxiety.
I could hold it together during the day. I really could. Teaching would encompass eight to ten hours a day, then I would go home and spend my remaining hours on homework for my own classes and on my tasks as a young mother. I was proud of my productivity, proud of my job, proud of my family life.
Still, a recurring dream would haunt me many nights. My house was on fire. There was little time to get out, and I had two children to save, on two opposite sides of my house. I had to pick one. Before my decision was ever made, I would wake up in complete panic. Hours later, I would remember the dream and fret the whole 20 minutes to work. Whom would I save? Whom would I save? Whom would I save?
As I've grown older, my anxieties have eased. Now when I wake up at night, it is more often because I naively had a caffeinated beverage the previous afternoon. I still worry, but now I worry about my teenagers' decisions but also understanding that their mistakes are to large degree, out of my control. Of course, I also have my teenagers who roll their eyes at me, laugh at my angst, and overdramatize my worries to the point of absurdity. For example, if I'm worried one is late from school, my youngest may agree, saying, "Yep, he's probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere."
But today—this beautiful spring day—the Holy Spirit decided to remind me what happened before my long-ago nightmares finally ended.
I gave my kids over. I remembered my six-year-old son and two-year-old daughter were never to be mine but for a season, so I relinquished them to Jesus. On those anxiety-fraught drives to school, instead of begging God to bend to my will, I asked for the strength to bend to His will. Whatever is in Your plan, God, I praise You. If You choose to gather my children into your loving arms, I know there is no place safer. Not my will, but Yours be done.
The nightmares stopped, and I regained my life and my joy.
Why did the Holy Spirit remind me today of what happened so long ago? I've been worried about my children, about things that are out of my control. I am reminded because again, I need to hand them over, to recognize that I am not the God of the universe. I can't predict the future, how all my concerns will turn out. But I know God hears my prayers, and I know He hears yours too. It is time let God be God, and be reminded that I can find peace just by being in His presence.
Back in 1998 I was working as a high school teacher in a small northwest Iowa town 18 miles south of my home. I had two small children, Caleb and Kaylee, whom I of course loved with a kind of love that I really had never known before. As my husband and I raised these two, we were both working full-time and I was pursuing my master's degree in education. At the time I was also completely overcome with anxiety.
I could hold it together during the day. I really could. Teaching would encompass eight to ten hours a day, then I would go home and spend my remaining hours on homework for my own classes and on my tasks as a young mother. I was proud of my productivity, proud of my job, proud of my family life.
Still, a recurring dream would haunt me many nights. My house was on fire. There was little time to get out, and I had two children to save, on two opposite sides of my house. I had to pick one. Before my decision was ever made, I would wake up in complete panic. Hours later, I would remember the dream and fret the whole 20 minutes to work. Whom would I save? Whom would I save? Whom would I save?
As I've grown older, my anxieties have eased. Now when I wake up at night, it is more often because I naively had a caffeinated beverage the previous afternoon. I still worry, but now I worry about my teenagers' decisions but also understanding that their mistakes are to large degree, out of my control. Of course, I also have my teenagers who roll their eyes at me, laugh at my angst, and overdramatize my worries to the point of absurdity. For example, if I'm worried one is late from school, my youngest may agree, saying, "Yep, he's probably lying dead in a ditch somewhere."
But today—this beautiful spring day—the Holy Spirit decided to remind me what happened before my long-ago nightmares finally ended.
I gave my kids over. I remembered my six-year-old son and two-year-old daughter were never to be mine but for a season, so I relinquished them to Jesus. On those anxiety-fraught drives to school, instead of begging God to bend to my will, I asked for the strength to bend to His will. Whatever is in Your plan, God, I praise You. If You choose to gather my children into your loving arms, I know there is no place safer. Not my will, but Yours be done.
The nightmares stopped, and I regained my life and my joy.
Why did the Holy Spirit remind me today of what happened so long ago? I've been worried about my children, about things that are out of my control. I am reminded because again, I need to hand them over, to recognize that I am not the God of the universe. I can't predict the future, how all my concerns will turn out. But I know God hears my prayers, and I know He hears yours too. It is time let God be God, and be reminded that I can find peace just by being in His presence.
