Since May, when I walked off stage with my cap and gown, life has felt out of control. Everything I try to get a grip on feels too heavy (even my iPhone, which took a plunge to the cement-- now sporting chips and cracks). And yet, with clenched fists, I keep trying to hold on to it all. Over and over, I do this and I am left exhausted and frustrated-- my hands and heart aching.
Things that should leave me with joy, leave me drained: graduating college, planning a wedding, getting a job, even . . .writing. We have a vision of how things will look and go, but eventually that vision begins to blur. Mid May was the start of my vision's blur and now I'm left with a smudge I can barely make out. But it's this smudge and my slipping grip that's saving me. I was never suppose to hold onto anything. When I finally listen I hear God saying, "Child I hold everything, including you, release your grip. It is okay. Release your grip."
It is okay to just be. It is okay to write only a few words when that's all you want to say. It is okay for your vision to blur.
And so, I am releasing everything-- letting it all hit the ground and shatter into pieces. Pieces I know I cannot make out, which is both terrifying and freeing. I tried so hard to be in control by holding on, as if it that showed I wasn't giving up. But here I am empty-handed, knowing I am weak and I have never felt more free. Because those pieces are not left to be walked over or stepped on, but picked up by the one who holds everything.