Sucky Surrender

I’m mad. But I don’t know who or what to be mad at.

I could be mad at Dad. For leaving me in this way. For not fighting harder, for leaving me when I’m in this season of needing him.

I could be mad at my family but they didn’t ask for this either.

I feel mad at myself. For not doing more, for not doing anything, for trying too hard. For feeling like a complete and utter mess.

I want to be mad at God. For this painstaking way he is taking Dad from me. For making life feel just dang hard right now. For taking away all clarity, for leaving me standing in this season of loss. For this pain and broken heart I am feeling.

I’m so mad, but I have no one to be mad at. I’m so mad but I have nothing to be mad at.

I just can’t wrap my head around it anymore. Or maybe I’m just tired of trying to wrap my head around it and it’s a surrender that’s harder than the frantic trying to wrap my head around it. It’s a surrender that I need to do, but it’s a surrender that absolutely sucks.

I was giving Dad communion and Rachel and I talked about what she learned in Sunday School about Jesus saying “Let the little children come to me”. We talked about how God doesn’t care how young or old were are, in perfect or failing health, the mistakes we’ve made. None of that matters. But here’s what I’m just finally learning does matter and can make all the difference: We have to BELIEVE that he wants us to come to Him. I’ve told others these things, encouraged my girls that God doesn’t care what you have done or haven’t done, He just wants you to come to Him. But I must admit that I haven’t believed it myself. And that makes me feel such a fraud.

So here’s the thing. He wants us to come to Him even when we are downright furious. He wants us to come to Him even when we feel like all He's done is take things away. He's there when you're so tired of feeling loss.

I haven’t believed that. I haven’t believed I have a right to come to Him with the why’s and the fury and the hurt and the heartache.

I just wish… I wish I could have him back. I wish I could tell my Dad how I’ve felt like a failure of a Mom. I wish I could tell him how stuck and lost I feel. I wish I could tell him how I just am in a season of sad.

I wish so badly that it could be my Dad telling me that everything will be okay, that I’m being too hard on myself and I’m doing just fine. I wish it were him telling me that I just need to be, and that it is enough. And it’s in all of this that I realize that while Dad has done that for me my whole life, it’s time now. It’s time for me to 1) give this gift and reminder back to Dad; to truly believe it when I tell him it doesn’t matter that he has dementia, it doesn’t matter the mistakes he’s made, just go to God 2) to believe on my own and to believe in God when He says come to me.

Absolutely no lie, it's still a surrender that sucks for a person who likes to be in control and have a plan. It’s a surrender that sucks when you’re still in the muck and mire rather than coming out the other side. I keep telling myself to wait for it, that there will be joy again. I keep telling myself to wait for it, there will be peace again. I keep telling myself to wait for it, I won’t always feel this stuck, this lost. But when I do surrender, I hear the promise in a simple lyric, the laugh of my child, a snuggle with my puppy, my best friend giving me a hug and simply saying, “it’s okay”. And I want so badly to believe it all, I’m trying so hard to believe it

And I hope you can believe it too. Things won’t always feel this way. Whatever it may be, you will get through it. He’s there even if you’re stark raving mad (and it is okay to be stark raving mad). You don’t even have to try to convince yourself right now that things will be okay, you don’t have to try to muster that up at all. Just sit in sucky surrender. He’s got you.