I Believe in Surrender
I’m no good at spontaneity. It makes me uncomfortable. I’m at my best when I operate with a plan. So I write orderly, lengthy lists and follow them. I even created a plan for my life and intended upon following it.
I would become a writer, living in either Manhattan or somewhere in the mountains. I would not marry or have children. I knew I’d be happy in the company of great friends and family, while living my neat, quiet life.
Then I met my husband.
Life sprang joy on me. And the love I felt for this man was utterly unscripted. My old plans were tossed. New plans, a fusion of plans, were put in place. We moved to several new cities, changed jobs, and met new friends. There were years of high notes and a fistful of low ones too. His agenda became mine and my dreams became his to carry. It was not the simplistic life I had forecasted, but there was love, direction and order.
Then our sons were born.
What I experienced upon seeing their faces is beyond understanding. Love overpowered me. It made me dizzy and deaf. I forgot to breathe. Love pierced so deep it straightened my back, readying me to face whatever threatened to knock them down. In a moment, I was different.
Now I’m learning to live in moments; one fleeting moment linking to the next. I’m learning to surrender and enjoy the unexpected. Which isn’t always easy. I often feel anxious and frustrated not knowing what to expect from the day or from the night. But this is my life. So I surrender and field my children’s needs like a constant rotation of grounders, line drives and pop-flies. Often, very often, I drop the ball. I forget important things or botch an explanation. I plan how to calmly handle a challenging situation and still manage to loose my temper. Most of my day is a surprise. There is disorder. Things get spilled. There aren’t enough clean socks. My list grows. Little gets crossed-off. And some days I feel like a failure.
But then I hear my kids laughing. Together. Or, they write their name. Run. Stomp the mud. Pull-up a zipper. Help someone. Notice the birds or the moon. They climb, crack an egg or make a new friend. And I feel grounded. Because within this chaos there is a plan: love them, protect them, teach them, encourage and inspire them. And, somehow, it’s working.
So I believe in surrender; to float rather than fight the current. Because when I let it, life takes me places far greater than I could have ever planned.
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