When You Can’t Pretend You’re In Control Anymore

I let my hair down today. First time in more than two weeks, really. It’s hard to do when I’m learning life all over new. Hard to be myself, I mean. Hard to let the hair flow and blow in the wind when it blows everywhere and in my eyes and all over messy-like, making me realize that I have absolutely no control whatsoever over any part of this new life. Making me look the part, too.

The truth is, I really never had control over the life back home either. I was just much better at pretending I did. The truth is, I handed over that control many, many years ago when I gave my life to God and promised to follow Him to the ends of the earth. It’s just that now, He’s led me to what feels like the actual ends of the earth.

Four thousand two hundred eighty-six miles ago, I said goodbye to life as I knew it for one whole year. And now, two weeks later, I find myself in the thick of unknown, remembering Who really holds the key to my life. To real life the way I want to live.

It came to me last night, this freedom to let my hair down. The ability to find the okay in it, to enjoy it somehow, even. When I read this post by a favorite author and remembered the truth about why I’m here in this place where washing machines are the only laundry appliances and beer is cheaper than water.

When the learning curve feels more like an impossible-to-conquer climb than a gentle inclining curve, I remembered the why of the climb. He led me to here. And now I have lost my life in a very real sense. In the following, I am finding that the daily steps He shows, the every-ounce-of-energy He asks of me, lead me to the life that He wants for me.

And the homesickness eases a bit as I recall the reason I am here in this place I neither know nor now find comfort in. Because I know Him Who brought me. Because I find comfort in Him Who holds me here.

I will grow to love this land, I am sure. And I long for that day, without doubt. Already, there is so much to enjoy. The poppies growing wild in the fields outside my window. The rolling hills and quaint little towns. The happy people who smile even when I nod ignorantly and giggle nervously. The old sign that marks what used to be a cafe, hanging right outside my bedroom window.

And someday it will feel like home. But for now, I will rest in the Maker of home and try to enjoy the way His strong arms feel, the way His great big fingers point, the way His loving hand holds mine as He teaches me to climb.