Lately, I have been in a place of deep reflection, of humble retrospect. I have sat in the center of a typhoon of crises that beg my attention, only to have me shrug away, grasp for air, respite from the swirling mass of circumstances and reach for something more. More. That word keeps finding its way into my heart lately. More. There is more. More than these circumstances that threaten to drown me, not because they are happening to me. I am blessed. They are swirling around me. I feel like the person in the “safe house” watching a tornado bounce around, completely destroying everything in its path, showing no mercy. I am powerless to stop it, powerless to help anyone. I am not in control. I’m just watching and knowing.
I’m not in control.
As someone who has battled control issues for her entire life, that is a humbling realization. I am not in control. As much as I am heart broken by, angry at, frustrated with, disappointed in, confused about, fearful of the circumstances swirling around me, I am a spectator. I am powerless. I am not in control.
Despite that. Despite the lack of control over the circumstances that threaten to crush, I do get to choose my response. I get to choose my reaction. I get to choose where I let my mind dwell. I have a responsibility to choose.
That’s my job.
There is More. More comes and makes promises and keeps them. More is Comforter and Peace. More is a quiet place of Refuge and Strength and because of there being more, I can choose joy. I can choose hope. I can choose peace. I can choose to not be consumed. I can choose to take my eyes off of the waves crashing around me and loved ones and focus on the One who offers more, and I can accept what He offers.
There are so many people close to me involved in some larger than life crisis right now. It’s unbelievable how many around me are engaged in the battle of their lives. Some know it. Some don’t. Some are fighting. Some have no clue how. Some are battle worn. Some are rested and ready to go back in. Some are drowning. Some are hurting and tending to wounds. War is messy. I’ve been in that war. I’ve got my own battle scars. I know.
Some days, I am launched back there onto the front lines, with my chipped armor, and the darts start flying. I am inclined to give away my joy and peace and hope, like trophies to the enemy. “Here you go, I guess you can have them,” in a voice of defeat. NO! By golly, we win! I’ve read the book, I know the outcome. I know that the enemy loses. I will NOT be defeated anymore! I will not allow the enemy to swoop in and grasp the very foundation out from under me. I WILL choose joy. I WILL choose peace. I WILL choose hope. I WILL choose NOT to be consumed. They are within grasp. I just need to choose to grasp them and help my loved ones to grasp them when they have offered them up as trophies in their own battle. I am not in control, but I am on the winning team. I am part of an impenetrable army of warriors. We will not be shaken.