Preoccupied with housework, I was oblivious to what
was going on around me. As my husband would say, I usually don’t notice the
pink elephant on the side of the road as we drive by. I remember one time my
child thoroughly painted himself, the TV and nearly everything nearby with
shortening while I was clueless, baking bread in the same room. Anyway, back to
the story… suddenly I realized that all the while I was daydreaming, my husband
had been putting up Christmas decorations. Without my notice, our house had
been transformed into something resembling K-Mart at Christmastime, on
steroids. Gaudy red and green adornments glared at me everywhere I turned, like
neon signs.
Ugh! I
panicked. Quickly I did the math and realized it was only mid-November. How was
I ever going to make it all the way to Christmas, at which time I could finally
take them down? Panic soon gave way to boiling over anger. How could my husband
do this when he knows how I hate knickknacks, especially around the holidays? Seething,
I tried to get up and follow him out the door to tell him how angry I was
before he left me fuming for the rest of the day. But, for the life of me, I
couldn’t get up. I struggled against an unseen force that held me paralyzed
until finally… I woke up. I sprang to my feet only to relax into the wonderful
realization that it had all been a dream.
I hate to admit it, but having a nightmare like this
one is probably a sure sign of being a control freak. Needless to say, I like
having my environment orderly and simple. I am easily overwhelmed by clutter. It
seems a large part of my time is spent trying to keep my life, possessions,
responsibilities and relationships all at a manageable level, where I feel a
sense of control.
The issues involved with having a prodigal child are
not manageable. I cannot control his choices, his safety, his happiness, his
effect on family dynamics, or his beliefs about me or about God. Deep down I
feel responsible for all these things because he’s my son. But the other day I
sensed God speak to me about my children. He quietly said, “Let’s think about
them as My kids.” It’s a subtle shift in thought, but it takes the
pressure off. Instead of feeling like I’m responsible, it helps me let go of
that need for control because, as their Father, God has assumed the
responsibility for my kids. Their salvation and the full rescue and redemption
of their lives is in His hands. He calls me simply to walk alongside them,
follow the Shepherd’s voice, and to “Be still, and know that I am God…”
Psalm 46:10
