Who is Responsible?

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As I meander through the week, tripping over bad news and looking for good, a desire for peace, deep peace, pounds inside my chest. Yet, I’m in no-man’s-land, a place difficult to maneuver, a place riddled with land mines–how to move forward is unclear.

It is only Wednesday, yet we’ve endured a full week’s worth of bad news, thank you very much. Today, dollars flew out the window, as the glass guy replaced a broken one.  Yesterday, “close, but no cigar,”  I just missed getting a job interview.  Last night, my husband’s credit card number was stolen.   Perimenopause–a long-term “guest” that throws grown women into a reversal of the hormonal and emotional “joys” of adolescence–sneered as it settled in.  Other things, too private to mention, slapped me hard. I flounder like a fish out of water, wondering if I’ll die like this.

In many ways, I make my bed and lie in it.  I guess we all do.  I choose to persevere when I could run and seek security on my terms; I choose to pause and wait for wisdom and perspective; I seek professional guidance; I choose to move when God says “move.”  Sometimes I hear Him and respond, other times I hear another and miss the mark.  I seek His healing, I refuse to drop and die. I move in fits and starts, it is ugly–onlookers worry and wonder.  Friends listen, support and share opinions, yet each friend’s opinion conflicts with another.  I hug them close, listen and pray.

I take responsibility for my actions, I know what I do matters.  My life is a blip, yet what I do endures and affects those near, far and many who come after. Conflicting emotions compete for power, letting them “be” without letting them control is tricky.

Closer than the fearful thoughts that rumble around in my head, is my Lord.  Sometimes–fleeting moments, really–I see His face in front of me. His beautiful brown eyes brim with kindness and shine with power.  Silently, He reminds me: even when I do not see Him, He sees me.  I am not alone, even in this.  For a moment, I relax and breathe easy.

Something I’m just beginning to realize keeps coming back; like a string around my finger, it keeps coming into view.  Not only am I responsible for my actions but like a good Parent of one still maturing, God is responsible for me.  He’s in charge of ordering my life for my highest good and His glory. I have freedom, I can choose, but I am not independent.  No, as a child of God, I am dependent on Him and He is responsible for me.

Funny, I have no trouble seeing myself before Him, answering to Him, but like sunlight through a dirty window, I struggle seeing Him as my Father, as One responsible for my spiritual growth. I try to carry all the responsibility.  He must smile. Like an attentive father watching his two-year-old struggle to tie her shoe, He must smile…and wait, until she gives up and asks Him to do it.  And then, when she is ready, He shows her the intricacies of loops and knots.  For awhile, they will tie her shoes together, then she will go solo, and then, eventually, it’ll come automatically and she’ll be ready to learn something new.

Yep, He is responsible for teaching me how to do this life thing well, He is responsible for getting me through this time.

Okay God, I can’t maneuver this no-man’s-land.  I give up. You be responsible for my safe passage, for You have the bird’s-eye view and x-ray vision, You see the barbed wire and buried land mines.  Ready when You are.  Please, oh please don’t let go of my hand…