I am a Control Freak

I was at work. It was silent aside from the buzz of my ultrasonic and the radio in the background. Warm tears fell behind my mask; tears I wanted to avoid explaining to my patient, or to anyone. They were tears I had done pretty well at hiding all day. And the day before. Though the tears were the only thing I hid well. Then my delicate balance was interrupted by the speaker on the radio. Testifying of God, like they often do on K-LOVE, she said something that's only comforting to those no longer grieving. (And I am certainly grieving.)

"No matter what happens in our lives, we can be comforted that God is in control."

Instantly, a little stab of anger pierced my heart.

Because life is sometimes crushing. You know what would be comforting? Not being crushed. 'God is in control.' Don't they know I know that!? Because I do, I know that. I trust Him. I always have. I always will. But. But a piece of my life just fell apart. I wish it hadn't. I want it back. I hurt. I ache. I hurt. And I know God is in control.

But that, dear radio lady, that was not comforting. 

Because comfort would mean I could put the pieces back the way they were before they broke. Comfort would have prevented it all from coming to an abrupt halt. Comfort would fill this gaping hole inside me. Comfort would not make me so angry.

You know what? Comfort would mean I would be in control. Then I would have the power to reverse this affliction.

I know He won't.

My already tender heart almost burst. I love that patient and refused to start blubbering all over her (or anyone). Thankfully, she was my last of the day, which gave me the ability to leave work early. I pulled up at home. The kids were inside, which meant that to some degree, chaos was inside. Not hardly able to deal with my own chaos, I flopped under the tree in the yard, praying for comfort I did not feel.

'God is in control.' It would be a whole lot more comforting if the control freak in me wasn't vying Him for control. I hate 'control' right now. Because it is eluding me. At least, the kind of control I crave is eluding me. And with it, the comfort I wish were available seems overwhelmingly unreachable.

I laid in the yard for an hour or so, just watching the wind play with the leaves in the tree. Angry. Hurting. Praying. Dozing. I could feel the warmth of the sun flicker with the leaves. Somehow, blessedly, (though I am not sure when) I started to feel a different warmth. For a little moment, peace overtook my tears. I was calm as I could be, yet.

Because.

Because God is in control. I cannot help but hope that He is giving me bread, even though it feels and looks so much like a stone. But if it is a stone, (and I am still not so sure it's not) I cannot deny the power He has to change a stone into bread. And because He can, I have hope that He will. Someday. One day. I wish 'one day' were today. Goodness, I wish that 'one day' was not even necessary. But He tells me it is; He tells me that it will not always be beyond my reach.

So I just hope. I hope that the good gifts God has planned will surpass the grief that currently has my heart engulfed. I have hope that 'one day' will come. And who am I to take control of that?