Control, Again

Control. Again. It all comes back to it somedays.

Makes sense though. Essentially I’m a single parent when my Chris is at work. (3-4weeks out of state at a time). It’s exhausting. And hard.

And I am momma aka the one in charge. I make every executive decision. What’s for breakfast, when it’s nap time. Can we play outside. Can we have dessert. Is it time for the zoo or train station. Do we have to clean. Can we skip baths. Are the bills paid. Did the birthday cards get sent. When do we need groceries…

Every single decision, big and small, is mine for the making.

It’s no wonder I have control issues. It’s the nature of my 24/7 job to be in control. And not just “in charge” for authority’s sake, but relied upon to raise kind, respectful, healthy, happy, God fearing, God loving, humans.

The stakes are very high.

It’s easy to forget my little daily decisions are not about control.

And that in the scheme of life they are just that, little daily decisions.

I’m well aware of my failures daily. I choose poorly a lot. I react even worse.

However, I’ve been taught it’s ok; grace isn’t given because of my works but because of His love.

And despite it all I try to make that my foundation of motherhood. Grace isn’t given because of their deeds, but because of my love.

I screw up a lot, make the wrong decisions. I pray I always err on the side of love. Make the best decision I can, with the information I have at the time, and then let the rest go.

Could have, would have, should haves don’t matter. Ultimately I’m not in control anyways, I’m just guiding tiny lives the best I can. And God will use my efforts for good.

It is in His control. He made these littles, I was just the vessel. He is shaping their destinies and hearts, I was just honored to guide them.

So guide them I do, with all of my heart. And I pray I loosen my novel grip on control enough to enjoy these days and keep an eternal perspective, my little daily decision add up, but do not give me any real authority. The power and the blessings belong to my King

So like a servant I bow low, unworthy of the tasks granted to me. The love given directly to me, and the love grown in me that I’m allowed to foster and witness.

And at the end of the day I’m aware it’s not me being glorified by my faulty works, but my King.

  • J

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