I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was driving home to our apartment on the college campus and I was on the phone with my dad who was, at the moment, equal parts counselor, friend and daddy. And I was crying and begging for wisdom about how to change the present sorrows in life and wondering how will I ever be okay? The response: it's a choice. After processing that reality for a while I sat alone in our apartment and cried. I knew dad was right: either I choose now to put my heart in the position to trust again (God and people) or I remain an over-bearing, control-freaked, joy-lacking individual who wouldn't experience the fullness of life the way it was intended.
And I let go.
I remember saying, "Okay. I'll trust. I'll take my hands off of my heart and I'll be vulnerable. At any cost."
And then...then came flooding freedom. Peace invaded, no joke, immediately, and I was a different person. Different in that I felt like I could handle all of what life throws at me.
Fast forward sevenish years. I'm sitting on my couch crying wondering how this can be? How can this happen? How will I handle the stress of this situation? And I am reminded of the truth I can never forget. That it will all be good. That there's no reason to fret. I am a life created for beauty and the more I surrender, the more I am blessed by what I don't see.
The odds of me getting pregnant were, apparently, 1 or 2 in 1,000 (that's .15% for clarification). Odds that are laughable and brutal, but true. Save the date: October 8, 2009.
[[to be continued...]]
