Let Go and Let God

How many times haven't I heard people say this: often in the midst of some or other stress or strain under which people seem to not really be coping. I can't say that I've used this phrase often, or that I've paid too much attention to it when I've heard it. Mostly it has gently tickled over my one ear before leaving straight out the other. Until today.

This morning I learnt a hard lesson about letting go. And then about letting God.
This morning Zac rolled out of the bed: tumbling to the floor with a thud that startled me, and a scream that sent me into a massive panic. I wish I could say that I was busy, that I just turned away for a moment, and wiggly little Zac shot off the bed before I had a chance to do anything. The truth is though, we were both asleep after a pre-sunrise feed. I was so fast asleep that I didn't even feel him move out of my usually secure hold of him. I think he was asleep too, actually. And immediately when we woke we were equally shocked and frightened.

Zac cried for a few seconds, had no visible indication of any injury or discomfort, and was soon happily feeding and laughing at me. My recovery was not as fast. I too cried (for half an hour straight, and then some), and immediately I was condemning myself; questioning my abilities and sense of responsibility. How could I have left him on the open side of the bed? How could I not have woken through his movements? How could I let go?

And through the lambasting I was giving myself, I almost heard God lovingly ask, "and since when have you been perfect? Don't you know you are never going to be able to protect Zac from everything that could, possibly, maybe happen to him? You don't control things, I do. And what's more: you need me too. You cannot possibly even begin to 'excel' as a parent without my help..."

Such a meaningful lesson, and so difficult to apply some times.

Sometimes we let go because we choose to. Other times we let go because we're made to, or something cuts the rope that's holding us, or like this morning, we are just so tired we just stop holding on. In each case though, the question is not about why we are holding on, but rather what we are holding on to.

Regardless of which area of our lives this may apply to, we all need to remember: (as Jorja says) "God is with you". I imagine Him hovering below where we're hanging, daring us to just let go so that He can catch us and sweep us up in His arms, and take us higher and further, opening our clenched shut eyes to all we were missing in our fear, exhaustion and pride.

Thank God Zac is fine. Thank God I will be fine too. Perhaps now that I know I am no longer in the running for the world's most perfect parent, I can stop beating myself up trying to be that. Perhaps now I will really let go, and let God.



Little Gangster Zac