As I left Church this afternoon, having led my women's study, I watched two of the pastors walking through the parking lot, talking and planning where to go for lunch. Their breath, visible as they trudged along, spoke of the coldness of the day despite the bright sunshine. As I drove towards home, mounds of snow flanked the roads and I realized that we Michiganders, and all those who endure such harsh winter weather, do it because this is our life. This is where we live and how we live. And we accept it. We cannot control it and so, we rise each morning, dress for the weather and head outdoors to wherever we need to be. We complain a bit about the cold and compare notes with officemates as in, "Can you believe how cold it is out there?" "It's going to go below freezing tonight." "You are kidding me." And then we go on with our day.
In parts of the country, there are people who have been without power for over a week since the cold, snow and ice descended upon them - yet again. And still, they endure. It's there, but it doesn't control us. It doesn't define who we are on a given day. If only all of our problems were like this. If only we could accept our lots in life, just as we accept these cold winters because we know there is nothing we can do about it.
How much easier my own life would be if I would let go, just as I let go when I get up, look at the outdoor thermometer, sigh, roll my eyes and wrap my bathrobe tighter around my waist as I prepare a pot of steamy coffee. Just as I let go when my cat throws up on the carpet yet again and I get the paper towels and the Oxy Clean. Just as I let go when I forget that I left the spaghetti pot boiling and I go to get the mail and meet my neighbor there where we stand talking for 25 minutes until I remember the spaghetti and I drop half of my mail and leave a bewildered neighbor as I run, screaming to the house, to find everything boiled down to a pot of mush and I have to start over again. Just as I let go when I pull the towel off of my head and see what I thought was going to be a nice brown and instead see a bizarre glinty shade of pink and I thank God for a comedy troupe of office workers who like it when I come in looking like a transvestite who had a bad night. I can let go of these things.
Some things are more difficult to let go of. The friend who is sick with cancer and, try as we might to alleviate their pain or lift their mood, we can't. The child who has gone astray and won't return to what we consider "normal" even though we cry and pray until we are completely exhausted and look like, as my mother used to say, "death warmed over." The baby whose head size is in the 97th percentile and now his MRI results show the possibility of an abnormality and his Grammy is thinking, "God, I just can't take anymore." The financial stress that so many people are going through because of loss of jobs and an economy that begs us to just pull the trigger and put it out of its misery.
I often forget about my faith when things get out of control, or should I say, out of my control. I forget that I am a passenger in the ride called life and that there is Someone, much mightier and more knowledgeable than me, in the driver's seat.
I am trying to let go. Of so many things. I am trying to be the passenger and not a backseat driver. I am trying to just go along for the ride with the top down, my hair blowing wildly as life comes at me from all angles. I'll keep you posted on how I do and maybe you'll do the same for me.
Copyright liamsgrandma 2009