Today was a "terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day" triggered by "a series of unfortunate events." The day was lousy, and my attitude was even worse. I finally got home and was able to lace on my running shoes and hit the pavement. I just needed to run until I had an attitude change. I figured it shouldn't take more than 20 miles. (Fortunately for me, it only took 3.5 because I can't run 20 miles!)
The run allowed me to get alone with God. Now you know why I really run. It's where I find some of my best prayer time.
Along the way I did a bit of wrestling with God about some situations that have been weighing on me. With each slap of my foot on the pavement, I felt my attitude change as I finally released my grip on the situation. Well, I thought I had a grip on things...actually, I never even was close enough to touch it. I was just imagining all the ways it could work out - as if God needed my help to work things out.
As I ran, I released it all to God. By the time I returned, I felt much better. It wasn't until I got home that I thought of a situation that happened this past year with my son. He had to make a trip to the hospital with dehydration and had to be hooked up to an I.V. I giggle now just thinking about it. (Lest you think I am awful, I knew he was okay when he turned to me after the nurse left the room and said, "She's HOT!)
To appreciate the story, you have to picture the situation. My 16 year old son who is almost 6 feet tall and can drag 5 football players down the field was sitting on the table desperately trying to talk the nurse into NOT giving him a shot, much less put in an I.V. needle. As she prepared the needle, he started trying to use his charm. She got close to his arm and tried to insert the needle and he was talking to her as fast as he could. He tried everything - tried to convince her he was okay, tried telling her that he loved her, tried to get her to tell him she loved him - ANYTHING to talk her out of that needle. I was trying to be sympathetic but I was laughing so hard tears were rolling down my cheeks.
After he finally relaxed, the nurse got the needle in place and the much needed fluids and medicine made their way into his system. He drifted off to sleep and I sat there watching him find relief from the pain that had driven us to the doctor in the first place.
Today I thought back to that hospital trip. Like it or not, I'm not much different than my son. Just as he tried to negotiate, sweet talk, even plead with the nurse to NOT use that needle, I have been doing much the same thing with God. I know how I'd like to see things work out. I try to talk God into doing things my way instead of simply relaxing and allowing Him to have His will. The process which I find myself fighting is for my good and His glory. I need to relax and stay still while He takes care of....well, of me.
You know, about 2 miles into the run, I had the thought, "God, I will stay right here in the middle of the process until you are done." I don't understand it, don't particularly like it, and have no idea if it will hurt or not (although I'm pretty sure it won't be fun.) Still, I won't try to leave...won't try to run. I will wait...and trust....and know that God can be trusted no matter what I face.
I just hope it won't involve needles.