It’s odd how the world can continue spinning on its axis and time can seem frozen at the same moment. Whether happy, sad, frustrating, or scary, certain moments or memories stay with us forever. The same can be said of my current experience. My grandmother had a stroke about a week ago. My family and I have been at her bedside since then. Waiting. Nothing to do but wait. We all have the same desire; that is full restoration of her body and mind. The truth is, we’re helpless…and it’s a terrible feeling. This particular experience has been one of the hardest I’ve endured in a long time. To watch a healthy 79 year old woman go from smiling and carrying on conversations to simply not responding at all is heart wrenching. It seems like a cruel joke or a bad dream you hope to wake from. Through it all I have found myself praying the hardest seven words of my life. “Not my will but Your’s be done….,” I muttered with tears in my eyes while driving down the highway. The crazy thing is, I’ve prayed that prayer before. This time has been different. The ramifications of what I have said are very real to me. These words are total surrender to God’s plan for my life. Rather, God’s plan for my grandmother’s life.
The blessing in all of this is the reminder that I’m not alone. Jesus prayed this same prayer at the hardest moment in His life on the Mount of Olives. “He cried out, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” [Luke 22:42] In His humanness Jesus is admitting His desire not to die. He is placing God in the driver’s seat regardless of the outcome. For me, that’s a scary thing. Common sense tells you I have no desire to lose my grandmother. Until I got married Mamaw was always my ‘go-to’ girl. If I ever needed someone to come into agreement with me in prayer she was the one I called. If I needed to blow off steam I called Mamaw because she had this way of hearing my heart and not my mouth. At this moment there is genuinely no way to know what direction this will go in. We are still waiting. Just. Waiting. Funny thing is, even though she’s not mentally here with me right now, she is still with me. If I close my eyes and pay attention, I can hear her words and encouragement. I know her response before I ever ask. She’s the very person who taught me this prayer because she understands the importance of it for her own life. So, I sit waiting. For what? I have no clue. But I’m not waiting alone. My Heavenly Father is here. I don’t need Him sitting in front of me speaking in an audible voice for me to hear or understand. If I remove myself from the noise, close my eyes, and listen He’s speaking. But I won’t be able to hear Him if I’m the one doing all the talking–and I had to learn that lesson the hard way. I guess, all these years, while I’ve been going to Mamaw (in a sense) I was going to God. She has always been an extension of His love, grace, and mercy for me. It’s my desire to be the same for others.
Closing remarks and encouragement: Letting go is hard—and I’m not referencing death. Releasing our will to His will can be freeing. No sense in stressing over something if you know He’s “working all things for [our] good.” I’m a firm believer we have to do our part. When we’ve done all we can do we must step back and allow God to move as only He can. He can accomplish more in a millisecond than we can in a hundred years. Those will be the hardest words you ever pray-but you’ll be glad you did.
Have a blessed week, my friends!