Surrender

Sometimes I struggle with my invisibility cloak. I lay it over my shoulders and submerge under its supposed warmth and protection. I soon languish there, hidden and alone.

My depiction sounds dramatic and seedy, like an old bar that’s never seen a bucket of sudsy water and a mop, but my description is more of a feeling than a physical state. This feeling is attached to my blog writing rather than my everyday living.

My struggle is allowing others in: people I don’t know and people that I do know. The difference between the two is negligible when it comes to emotional vulnerability. My current stance with blog writing is pause and wait. Wait for what, I’m not quite sure.

A loved one is throat-deep in her struggle with cancer. Sadness and grief, hope and love are interwoven in that scenario. The unknown is boundless and persistent, no matter how many tests are done or how many nurses and doctors give their time and knowledge. One day at a time is what remains steady.

I live with growing teenage boys. Sometimes no words surface to describe the drama that follows them. Their drama has no true fix either, for it embodies dueling aspects of independence and the stark fact that their brains are not fully developed. They are without knowledge and skill to handle every situation that comes their way.

This last bit leads me to the other truth that comes with parenting: sometimes I am without experience and knowledge myself. Humility and ego-deflation tranverses my days, reminding me that I am an adult but an adult who is still learning and growing herself.

Thank goodness saying “I don’t know” is not the hardest thing for me to do today. Or, that I need time to arrive at an answer. I used to shy away from stating my doubt or lack of knowledge or experience, because who likes to admit not knowing? Especially, when it seems that one should know.

Surrender.

That is what I’m reminded of today.

Surrender to my feelings and breath. I will feel my feelings and breathe through them. I am not alone in this endeavor.

Surrender my desire to transform the city’s grayness to blue sky and sun. Instead, I can stop, look, and listen and see the multitude of gifts that reside in plain sight.

Surrender my desire to know the complete in’s and out’s of my boys’ journeys. Their journeys are their own. I am only a bystander with an opinion.

Surrender my opinions. My opinions are not facts, just like my life experiences are not my boys’ life experiences. As they grow and learn, so must I, forever moving forward, engaging in life’s intricate tapestry of spiritual soundness and grace.

And, of course, surrender my invisibility cloak. I shed my cloak’s weight with each word I write.

Image Source: Pixaby

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  1. The first time I read this post on “surrender” I had just finished the novel, “A Gentleman in Moscow.” Set in 1922, it is the story of a young Russian aristocrat sentenced by a Communist tribunal to life-long house arrest in the Metropol Hotel. By surrendering to his circumstances he is able to set about building a purposeful life.

    It is a beautiful story of surrendering with grace but never giving in. It is written by Amor Towles; I wanted to tell you about it as soon as I read your post.

    Like

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