The shock has worn off a bit. I can think about other things. I can recount it without crying. Yet, if I allow myself to mentally go back just three days ago to those few minutes in the cold ocean water, I can hear my children's cries again, I can taste the salt water, I can see the tears in Laura's eyes and for a moment my heart is gripped in fear as I think about what could have been.
This was the first (and hopefully the last) real dangerous situation I've ever been in. I've never sincerely had the words "I might die" cross my mind and plant themselves there. But three days ago, in the frigid Pacific ocean, while being tossed to and fro by the waves and the current, it hit me: I had absolutely no control over what was going to happen. I was at the mercy of God and the ocean and it was that thought that makes me weep.
Why? Why did the thought of being completely at the mercy of God grip me with fear? Aren't I always at the mercy of God? He can choose to take me from this earth at anytime, yet in reality don't I feel like I have some control over that? I drive safely, avoid harmful substances, eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, look both ways before crossing the street and stay away from dangerous neighborhoods. I do these things in an effort to keep myself safe and prolong my time here on Earth. I don't really even do sports or activities that could put me in danger, like water ski, snowboard, scuba dive, or backpacking. (Note: It's not that I don't want to do these fun activities because I'm scared, but rather I have never had the opportunity or the desire to.) My point here is this: I am a fairly logical, methodical person who likes to have a plan, as well as a couple of backup plans just in case. I usually feel that my way is the best way and I experience real anxiety when things don't go according to plan. Let me put it to you like this: control is not my middle name...it's my first name.
So it should come as no surprise then that I struggle with giving control over to God. I can say with my mouth that He is in control, but really I unconsciously think that if He drops the ball, I've got it covered. If He happens to be busy when my one year old chokes on a grape, no prob. I know the Heimlich. My child spikes a 104.8 fever in the middle of the night? I've got my paramedic husband to weigh in, my infant manuals to read, and Web MD to help me out. If needed, we can rush him to the ER where a doctor can prescribe him meds. We get in a car wreck? That's what 911 and trauma hospitals are for and hopefully the car seats and seat belts did their jobs. See what I mean? Modern technology has really made us pretty self-sufficient, if not down right arrogant. Don't worry, God. I got this one.
Except for the ocean. It turns out that I didn't have that one. Until I was in that water, trying to keep my one year old and myself afloat, I had never truly experienced a feeling of pure dependency on God for my survival. Laura couldn't help me because she was fighting for her own life, along with her two children. For a few minutes, there was nobody on the beach to call out to for help and it appeared that we were completely on our own. Realizing that I couldn't control the situation was terrifying, especially because it was a matter of life and death.
Now that my feet (and my children's precious feet) are on solid ground, what bothers me the most is not that I didn't have control of the situation, but the fact that I was so scared to be at the mercy of God. What does that say about my trust in Him? I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
This was the first (and hopefully the last) real dangerous situation I've ever been in. I've never sincerely had the words "I might die" cross my mind and plant themselves there. But three days ago, in the frigid Pacific ocean, while being tossed to and fro by the waves and the current, it hit me: I had absolutely no control over what was going to happen. I was at the mercy of God and the ocean and it was that thought that makes me weep.
Why? Why did the thought of being completely at the mercy of God grip me with fear? Aren't I always at the mercy of God? He can choose to take me from this earth at anytime, yet in reality don't I feel like I have some control over that? I drive safely, avoid harmful substances, eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, look both ways before crossing the street and stay away from dangerous neighborhoods. I do these things in an effort to keep myself safe and prolong my time here on Earth. I don't really even do sports or activities that could put me in danger, like water ski, snowboard, scuba dive, or backpacking. (Note: It's not that I don't want to do these fun activities because I'm scared, but rather I have never had the opportunity or the desire to.) My point here is this: I am a fairly logical, methodical person who likes to have a plan, as well as a couple of backup plans just in case. I usually feel that my way is the best way and I experience real anxiety when things don't go according to plan. Let me put it to you like this: control is not my middle name...it's my first name.
So it should come as no surprise then that I struggle with giving control over to God. I can say with my mouth that He is in control, but really I unconsciously think that if He drops the ball, I've got it covered. If He happens to be busy when my one year old chokes on a grape, no prob. I know the Heimlich. My child spikes a 104.8 fever in the middle of the night? I've got my paramedic husband to weigh in, my infant manuals to read, and Web MD to help me out. If needed, we can rush him to the ER where a doctor can prescribe him meds. We get in a car wreck? That's what 911 and trauma hospitals are for and hopefully the car seats and seat belts did their jobs. See what I mean? Modern technology has really made us pretty self-sufficient, if not down right arrogant. Don't worry, God. I got this one.
Except for the ocean. It turns out that I didn't have that one. Until I was in that water, trying to keep my one year old and myself afloat, I had never truly experienced a feeling of pure dependency on God for my survival. Laura couldn't help me because she was fighting for her own life, along with her two children. For a few minutes, there was nobody on the beach to call out to for help and it appeared that we were completely on our own. Realizing that I couldn't control the situation was terrifying, especially because it was a matter of life and death.
Now that my feet (and my children's precious feet) are on solid ground, what bothers me the most is not that I didn't have control of the situation, but the fact that I was so scared to be at the mercy of God. What does that say about my trust in Him? I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
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