For Your Uncertain Moments

I tuck a few strands of damp hair behind my ear and absently fiddle with the plastic adapter on my phone charger.

It’s late. Almost time for bed.

But my feelings? They are far from settled.

Mom and Dad are in the process of preparing for a cross country trip with potential complications in the schedule, and an unplanned turn of events has me concerned. Yes, yes. I know. Who am I to worry about the two very capable adults responsible for my own existence?

But still, I do.

Dad’s back injury has flared up again, it’s a long trip, and some of the details on how everything will come together aren’t completely clear.

Then there’s that little reminder niggling the back of my mind about my brother’s upcoming surgery. His second surgery for the same problem, and I know the road to recovery will be a painful one. To top it off, my tire pressure light came on again today, even though I just purchased two new tires for my small sedan.

Cue the low grade anxiety rising inside, and for some reason I can’t seem to find my own pressure release valve.

These moments.

This place of uncertainty.

We all experience it from time to time, don’t we?

I wish I could say I’ve overcome the little worries that cloud my mind when life feels unsettled, but sometimes they pile up when I’m not looking and suddenly I find myself  in a distracted daze, forgetting to tend to the essential tasks at hand.

Like the next morning, when I heated water and prepared to add cream and sugar to my warm blue mug, only to realize I forgot something small, but important.

The tea bag. 🙂

Evidence there might be a few too many things on my mind?

Probably so.

Sometimes the middle moments are scattered. Sometimes they look like moving forward anyway, even when the dots won’t connect and the pieces don’t match up.

We grab a sweet tea for the road, get the tire pressure light checked out again, buy a third tire and wrestle with why we always return to this unsettled place when the sheer volume of details and next steps seem up in the air.

Ask me how I know.

If you’re anything like me, it’s easy to hold things outside our control too close, willing good and pleasant outcomes, all the while knowing deep down such decisions aren’t up to us.

Still, we try.

But after all these years, here’s what I continue to discover over and over again.

It’s too much to carry. Too heavy to handle in the here and now, and maybe I’m a slow learner, but little by little, I realize the importance of surrender, and acknowledging I don’t have what it takes to manage things on my own.

You know?

Fast forward a couple weeks as I peck these words across the screen, more settled and optimistic, the hint of an autumn breeze slowly pushing intense summer heat from our southern state.

The surgery went well. Mom and Dad are home, filled with stories, souvenirs and photos from the wild and beautiful West.

Everything isn’t perfect. There is still plenty that simmers beneath the surface, and the next time something bubbles up, I want to say it’ll be different.

I will be cool, calm and collected.

Less worry. More trust.

But along with these thoughts, another one rises to the top.

Maybe these uncertain moments are meant to be part of the process? Maybe they are meant to be the place where I can give up and give in, where I can once more become empty that I again may be filled.

For if I never come to the end of my own strength, how will I know where the true power lies?

How will I receive the gentle reminder to walk in faith, and remember progress is found in gathering courage to move forward anyway, even when we don’t have everything figured out?

I don’t know what will trigger it next time, but I know I’ll be overwhelmed again, maybe even sooner than I think.

If you can relate, let’s remember this when it happens. It is here we have the perfect opportunity to look up.

To adjust. Reconsider. Reevaluate.

To shift our focus and turn to the Rock.

So here’s to you, middle moments. We see you. We feel you. We are wrapped up in you.

We are drinking tea, sitting in waiting rooms, checking email, looking for answers, waiting for the phone to ring, and wondering how the next step will unfold.

But most of all, we are choosing hope. We are dwelling on provisions of the past and believing in peace for the future.

We are looking up and walking in the promises of God. No matter expectation or outcome, we know His presence is near.

Always and forever.