There’s an email sitting in my drafts folder. It’s the kind that a normal person would have tapped out in fifteen minutes, but I’ve been re-writing it for days, alternately staring at it in self-deprecating negativity, highlighting and deleting, hammering out strokes of brilliant wording, and waiting. Waiting in that embarrassing, paralyzing, anxiety-ridden place of perfectionism. This email on hold because I have no way of knowing what the response will be, and if I get every single word right, I may just be able to control for every possible mood that the recipient might be in. In free-flow on paper, my struggle sounds just as ridiculous as it is: a feeble human, trying to control another human by her words. (At least the power of words is a real thing). And yet, this struggle for control of my own life is real and has taken me to some of my lowest days. The only release is found in turning to the One who really is in control. And lately, He’s been whispering a lot of “I’ve got this. You can’t mess this up.” I shift uncomfortably when I hear this because it’s scary to pry my hands off the things I think I can control and lift them up while lying back into the soft strength of the hands that made the world. And now there is a strange, soft peace about my creaky office chair, as I lean back and press send.
Connecting, as usual, with Five Minute Friday.