Many books you read describe tears of anger as red hot. That’s not true. Tears of anger are ice cold. This month is four years. Four years of waiting and praying. Four years of smiling through the pain and crying alone. Why me? I have everything to give. We have a house. We are in a good place financially. We just traded cars for one that will fit a stroller better. Our jobs are flexible. Our time is flexible. Our lives are flexible. So why somebody else and not me?
Over four years, I’ve told myself that it’s just not time. That God still has something to teach me. And that’s been true. I’ve learned inexhaustible patience. To calm my hurry and hold my hope. I’ve learned uncompromising respect. To trust that my dearest will let me know when he’s ready, no matter what other people say. I’ve learned selfless rejoicing. To laugh and celebrate when someone else receives what I’ve been longing for.
Yet, as those icy tears of anger roll down my face, the emotion surprises me. Anger? Yeah, I guess that’s right. Because why not me? After all that praying and all that patience and respect and rejoicing. When is it my turn? What else could there possibly be for me to learn?
That’s when the familiar lyrics of an old song gently wrap themselves around my hazy mind…
Surrender, surrender you whisper gently
You say I will be free
I know but can’t you see?
My dreams are me. My dreams are me
Surrender. To cease resistance. To hand over. To completely submit…. Suddenly we’re way past patience. We’re talking about living what we say as Christians. “God has a plan.” “He knows what’s best for you.” “He holds good things for His children.” These things trip off the tongue to souls who are in trouble, but to believe them? To truly take the dreams that I hold oh so tightly, the dreams that are me, and surrender them. It’s terrifying. What if no little one comes? What if motherhood isn’t in my future? What if no one ever calls me Mommy?
Yet, when you open long clenched fists, there is that feeling of sweet relief. Like pounds were just lifted from your shoulders. Surrender. I guess there is still something to learn. True surrender takes so much hope and trust that all that opportunity for heartbreak makes it easy to hold back. But if I actually believe that God will give me what is best for me, then I will surrender. It’s the only thing left to do in the end.
Image via @roseheartandgrey