My mother says every time dismay washes over me and worry assails my mind, I should intentionally turn my fears over to God. I’ve heard this before, of course, and you probably have too. I’m clinging to this, some days. It’s advice that could sound easy-to-say-but-impossible-to-do, but coming from my mom, in this moment, it feels like a lifeline.

This is because I know she knows about the situation that’s shaken me up, and it’s shaken her too. I feel powerless to change circumstances, but my mind races through help I can offer. My mom, on the other hand, seems to have made peace with what she can and cannot do at a time in life when her own physical challenges are many, when medical appointments take up a lot of time and mobility issues make off-routine days hard.

My take-charge, intervene, and solve-the-problem Super Mom cannot swoop in and save the day this time.

So that leaves me. Doesn’t it?

Don’t you feel the pull?

You and me to the rescue.

We will right the wrong. Support the weak. Heal the wounded. Save the world.

Won’t we?

Oops. That’s God’s role. Not mine, and not yours.

We help when we can, where we can, and we surrender control of the rest to Him.

Like a child sleeping in the back seat on a long drive. Parents up front. The low murmur of voices and rumble of the engine familiar and hypnotic. Relaxing. The outcome of the trip doesn’t depend on the child. It might be good, it might be bad. The destination might be fun, or it might be dreaded. The journey, though, is marked by an in-the-moment trust unique to children in the care of trustworthy adults.

I remember what that feels like.

In the moments when worry hits me – so strong it twists my stomach and makes me feel nausea – in those moments, I remember what my mom is doing: surrendering [the illusion of] control to One who loves my loved one more than I do. Then, I crawl into the mind of little-Holly-in-the-back-seat. Safe. Quiet. Trusting. No need to make decisions. No need to figure things out. No need to know what happens next. Living in this moment. Trusting.

Thank you for your prayers over the past few weeks. I’ve needed them.

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