I don’t know why I’ve never heard of RSV but we managed quite nicely without it. It seems we were fortunate; I’ve since heard of so many others’ chids who did not escape it. Our precious l’il Ollie was sure thrown for a loop these past ten days. And I was sucked down the RSV rabbit hole, so to speak.
I didn’t realize how anxious I’d become until my sister pointed it out to me in a kind and gentle way yesterday afternoon. “God didn’t give you a spirit of fear,” she reminded me. “What is that verse?” Neither of us could remember the way it ended; I had to look it up. “But of power, of love and self-discipline.” Right now it seems I need some all of that, eh? Not much further on, Timothy reminded us the source of power. “… I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that he is able to guard what I’ve entrusted to him for that day.” (2 Timothy 1:7,12)
Well, there’s the rub. Have I trusted God completely with my grandson? I call on his ministering angels without a second thought. I know they serve God and protect his people. I wrote Ollie a lullaby, proclaiming as much! But do I really, truly, completely trust my Heavenly Father with this baby boy? This more-precious-than-my-own-life grandbabe? Apparently not; not yet.
I remember all too well this wrestling match with God over our own chids so many years ago. It took me a long while to concede that God could and would care best for them. I was a mama bear at their school, the hockey rink, wherever the opportunity was ripe to go on the offensive. I took on their coaches, teachers, friends’ parents, even a negligent referee or two. Mercy! I was determined to be that parent who went to bat for her chids, who stood up against what was wrong with the system, who had their backs. I would be their biggest defender and strongest protector. Supermom, or something like that. My intentions were good; my approach, sometimes not so much.
Over time, slowly but surely, as I grew in my understanding of God and his great love, I learned that I could trust him with my most precious ones, too. His ways are much more gentle and effective. Bonus: in trusting him, I gained immeasurable peace! Because it wasn’t about me or my abilities, which are sorely lacking. It wasn’t up to me to defend and protect from every angle, as if I even could. Their well being was on him. And he was able.
So it was a rather rude awakening to realize I was slipping back into control freak mode. I had become riddled with fear, concerned for wee Oliver’s well-being, panicked by my feebleness and inability to make things right for him, right now. Teeth clenched until my jaw was sore and my tummy twisting into knots, a pitt settling dead center, I felt myself spiraling down that rabbit hole.
This is no way to live, not for a woman of faith! Especially she who’s name means peace! (Time to get back on track with my One Little Word, eh? I’ll say.)
Just in case I didn’t hear God clearly through my sister yesterday, he sent another messenger. We texted back and forth just before bedtime: me telling her the drama of the day — whereby I nearly had a meltdown in an scary Ollie-care scenario — and she reminding me that peace comes from surrendering to a loving Heavenly Father all that I don’t own and cannot control anyway. Huh. Well, yes, there is that.
Nothing much has changed since the Hubs and I raised our family. God is God. I am not. I will choose to trust him with Ollie and Henry and all the other grandbabes yet to come. I may have to remind myself of that choice over and over again and if so, I will. I will choose God’s perfect love, in which there is no room for fear. I will choose to accept his provisions for me and for my family. I will live gratefully in his perfect peace.
Peace to you, my friend, in whatever you are facing. May you breathe peace, in and out. Believe that God keeps his promises, even midst the storm. Cease wrestling, release control and receive his perfect peace.
I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid. John 14:27
~ René Morley