The last few days have been, shall we say… in the nicest possible way… chaotic. My home came home and we hit the ground running – full speed ahead as they say.
I have an incredible team this year that has multiplied by a whole lot, and I have full confidence in their ability to blow all of our minds with their awesomeness, once they know what they need to do. Unfortunately most of that information is in MY head, not theirs yet.
We are doing some awesomely huge, new, exciting projects this year that are all starting at the same time… now. All of those projects need supplies, money, training, equipment, and guidance. Now.
I’m settling back into my home that left nearly four months ago, that while I was gone sailed several times in the open seas. I can’t find anything where I thought I left it. I’m reconnecting with dear friends I haven’t seen in months and cleaning up an email inbox that collected nearly eleven hundred emails over the absence and I’m also an MPH student trying not to fail in my first module and… and… and…
At one point last week I said to my boss, “I feel like I’m barely holding on by my fingernails.”
The imagery there is that there is a whole lot going on, and I’m gripping with all my strength to hold on by my fingernails; as though I have already nearly lost my grip, that if I were to slip just a fraction of a centimeter further I would (to mix all possible metaphors) fall into the abyss of chaos and brokenness and the balls I’m juggling would all crash and burn and I would drown.
It’s a phrase I have used before; when I feel right on the edge but there is a filament of strength left in me; of fight, of determination and commitment that no matter what I WILL NOT FALL. I might be a bit short with people; snarky, irritable, even rude; but I WILL NOT FALL.
Then… one evening as I as lifted the cries of my heart to the heavens; confessing my fear that at any minute one more thing will come along and I will fall and crash and burn and drown, the still small voice whispered two words that truly have transformational power.
The words were simple and the imagery profound; letting go doesn’t mean crashing and burning and drowning…
It means trusting.
Trusting the one that has promised never to leave me.
Trusting He hasn’t brought me here to abandon me.
Trusting He does care about the details. He wants these people and projects to bring life and hope and healing to Madagascar even more than I do.
Trusting he will orchestrate my next steps, minutes, breaths… if I trust him… and stop ripping off my fingernails trying to hold on by my own strength.
It's called surrender.
So with fingernails intact, my determination and drive and fear and striving all released to the heavens, I find myself having the most incredible week I can remember.
I’ve connected deeply with people and led meetings and attended meetings and sorted out details and made it through emails and did about six hours of schoolwork in three and shared treats with dear friends and I’ve slept well and found time I wasn’t expecting for encouraging others and offering kindness and loved well and spoken life and experienced joy and life to the full.
We can safely say I am big proponent of this (not so) new stress management plan.