When things do not go as planned, the gap between what we imagined and what is actually happening feels like a wall. It stops us cold. While we convince ourselves that letting go would keep us sane, the loss of the power to direct events keeps us awake at night.
And what did surrender look like while I was out of control? Wailing at night to the God who is in control. “Please hold my hand, carry me, I do not like this feeling.” In these moments, I tell God all my worries until my eyes become too heavy. Like a toddler running to her dad, seeking solace, that’s what I looked like. I never had a father growing up, so this is the father-daughter relationship I have known since.
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