Surrender

There is a calm I have been feeling in my heart lately. I have been afraid to look it in the face for worry it will hide or worse, run away never to return again. I have tried not to think too hard about it for fear I will use my brain and logic to destroy it. It is an odd feeling for me to have, I of the ever anxious heart, ever watchful eye, ever present unnerving feeling the other shoe is about to drop. Because it does. It always does. And only those who live lives of ease, lives of calm, lives with a much, much lower threshold for what qualifies as “chaos” than mine are able to convince themselves that shoes do not drop or insipid quotes like, “If it’s not alright, it’s not the end” are actual fact. Never the less, I have been feeling a calm in my heart and perhaps it is time to examine it. 

I believe surrendering is the cause, no small feat for a raging heart such as mine. My very favorite response to God or anyone else is a loud, “Yes, but why?” But on some day, some time back in a moment I cannot even bring to mind, I must have just surrendered. I must have thrown up my hands and said to the universe, “You win.” I did not come to any great understanding. I do not know any more about the reasons behind what has happened. But I must have come to some kind of peace.

I had a miscarriage and that is the fact.

My mother is dead and will remain so.

My father is married to another woman now.

My little sister has, and will continue to have, a brain tumor that greatly impacts her sight and hugely impacts her life.

And I remain and am able to sleep, eat, live, contribute to the lives of others. And though I may not pray every day, I find comfort in the thought of God and I do not feel forgotten by Her. We have made a peaceful agreement, it seems: She will do what She will and I will live through it. The wild anger that has gripped my heart about the uncontrollable nature of my life has largely left and it seems there is nowhere left to direct my rage.

And so, I suppose you could call what I have done surrendering, though it was unintentional and not as poetic as all that.

I am not “fine,” though I am not broken in pieces. Every single part of my life has been upended and shaken out at some point or another and what remains are the pieces that held on tight through the turning upside down, so they must be the pieces that were solidly in place before all the upheaval. And for those pieces, those places and people and qualities and things, I am thankful. And for the very changed, well tested, at once solid and fragile faith I am able to maintain I am thankful. And for the immeasurable gifts given to me in the midst of chaos (my love, my marriage, my true and real friendships, the place I call home) I am thankful.

This is not the calm that comes with time healing all wounds because time does not. This is not the dulled affect that comes from denial. This is the calm that only comes from surrender.