The Circus Act

 I juggle a lot of balls. We all do. Some of mine would be labeled with things like marriage, boys, therapies, appointments, meals, church, budgets, bills, home, work, school, friends, family. Some days I would swear that I live in a circus and I am indeed the juggling clown act. I have dropped lots of balls and, there are times that I notice a new ball in the mix. The crazy thing is that I like my juggling act. It gives me a purpose and a sense of control. That is where the problem lies, in that sense of control. Why is control a problem in a juggling act, you might ask. It almost seems necessary and appropriate. My answer is that, in all reality, I have none, not one itty bitty ounce of control and that is the way that God wants it.

 This lesson is being pushed on me intensely right now as I once again prepare for a new school year. A couple of weeks ago we found out which teachers the big boys had and we started the frantic texts and messages to see which friends they could look forward to sharing a classroom with. All the while, I felt like I was a puppet on a string. In reality, I have no say on who will lead and teach and, likely, even discipline them the majority of time for the next nine months.  I can buy their notebooks and sharpen their pencils. I can schedule haircuts and fill my pantry with fun, somewhat healthy, cold lunch options but my control is substantially limited. That doesn't even touch on the fact that in just a few days I will have to start preparing to send my sweet, protected Garrett off to kindergarten. Adding to the challenge, Garrett is going to a different school than my older kids. He will have a teacher, a principal, and a building that I know nothing about. He will be gone from my safe arms for hours and someone else will be in charge of helping him adapt and understand this new adventure without becoming overwhelmed.  He will be in a totally different situation than I am used to with special education and integration and, I am just along for the ride. I can visit the playground with him and try to explain what it will be like. I can go to the IEP meetings and listen to the plans but I won't actually be there to see if they work.  I feel excited and hopeful and, to be honest, horribly afraid.

My obvious concerns have been evident in my quiet times and God blessed me with the story of Hannah one morning. She was an older wife who longed to be a mother. She wanted it so badly that her prayers were once mistaken for drunken rantings. Finally, God gave her what she desired. She was blessed with a son, but the story doesn't end there. She had made a promise to return her son to God, and so, after a few short years of motherhood, she made a trip to the temple. I have no clue how she found the strength to do it, but she packed his bags and left her most precious child to live out the rest of his childhood at the temple. She gave up the control. She trusted in the Giver of the gift the very gift itself. What a valuable lesson!

Now,  how do I pull off this "Hannah trust"? How do I surrender my juggling act? I wish I knew the answer but, in reality, I am clueless. For now, I will do the only thing I know to do. I will pray and I will obey. I am a mother but my babies are not my own. My journal entry after reading about Hannah went like this,

"Lord, I am not in control. I juggle a lot of balls but none of them are really mine except my faith and in it I surrender all to you. Help me to trust in your ultimate plan, to keep my eyes on the path and my feet moving always forward. Yes, my boys walk with me but I hold their hands loosely, knowing that they belong to you and you will never let them go"

At the appropriate time in every circus the clown leaves the stage. I will continue my juggling act but when I am called off the stage for Someone bigger, I will gracefully bow out. I will be afraid but I will also recognize that I never really was the one in control, just a part of the show.