Let go

I've been in Seattle for five and a half weeks, basking in the beauty of spring in the Emerald City and marveling over the tiny perfection of my granddaughter. As I type, her royal babyness is lying beside me on the couch, not sleeping but calm, content to squirm and squeak in the most adorable fashion. She's quite the mellow child most of the time--crying only for good reasons. Which is why we were all surprised a couple of days ago when she suddenly transformed from a cooing cherub to a beet-red screaming machine.

All the adults were across the room seated at the dining table, and for a few moments we couldn't figure out what had happened. Then I noticed her hand seemed to be stuck to her head. "I think she grabbed her hair and doesn't know how to let go."

Grace and I both rushed to the couch to help her, but it took a while to free her hair from her iron grip. We couldn't get her to relax. The madder she got, the tighter she clenched her fist, the more it hurt, and the louder she screamed. It was truly pathetic. We couldn't help but laugh at the irony of her plight. Of course, at almost four weeks old, she has no volitional control over her hands. She had no idea she was inflicting the pain on herself.

Silly girl, I thought. If your brief life experience has taught you anything, you should know your mommy loves you. Trust her gentle pressure on your hand and let go.

The next morning as I lay in bed trying to wake up, I remembered Harper's trauma and realized how I'm often just like her. No, I don't go cross-eyed, kick my legs randomly, cry when I'm hungry, or poop my pants. (At least not several times a day.) But I do sometimes cling to things that aren't meant for my grasp. When God tries to gently pry my fingers loose, I fight Him, completely unaware that the pain I'm experiencing could be eased at once if I'd only trust Him and let go.

I suppose we all do it. We set our hearts on certain goals, dreams, or plans. Or maybe we cling to the past, afraid of what might happen if we weigh anchor and set sail. We ask God to bless our plans, to prosper our going or sanction our staying. We declare that we trust Him, but when He lays His hand on something we want--when He tries to pry open our white-knuckled fists, we fight with all our might, never realizing that the pain we feel is of our own making.

It's a good reminder for me right now. I'm dreading this coming Monday when I return to Texas. Harper has changed so much in four short weeks. How will I stand living half a nation away from this precious new possessor of my heart? I long to be a regular part of her life--to watch her grow and know her in ways that can only spring from day-to-day interaction. The willful part of me wants to make it happen--to go home, sell our house, and move to Seattle this summer. But I know if I clench my fist around something not meant to be mine, it will only hurt everyone involved when God has to pry my fingers loose. 

So instead of grasping, I'll ask God for His best. And whatever He gives, I'll receive with joy. I'll endeavor to hold all things in an open palm, and when my fist subconsciously tightens, I pray I'll be sensitive to His gentle touch long before I cause myself or anyone else pain.

I pray I'll have the grace to just let go.

Jeanne Damoff may or may not move to Seattle. Either way, she's not planning to pull out her hair. 

Comments

[Patricia (Pollywog Creek)]

Love, love, love this, Jeanne. Amazing insights beautifully written.

This "mimi" heart of mine knows all too well this particular "letting-go" pain and all the tangled emotions that come from grandmothering. (Off topic, I'd love your input, because I'm convinced that grandmothers experience post-partum depression, too - it's one of those "no one ever told me" life passages.) "Pulling out hair" just creates more places to heal, right?

On the flip side (because I've experienced it and KNOW He is waiting to do the same for you), I can't wait to hear how God gently massages and tenderly heals your stretched-out heart strings and fills your opened hands with more of Him in the days to come. You will be in awe of the way He will redeem the distance between Texas and Seattle.

Much love,
Mimi Patricia

[susan Fish]

This speaks very deeply to me today, Jeanne. Thank you. And may God bless you in your leaving of what you don't want to leave.

[Barbara H.]

We don't have grandkids yet, but it is a good possibility that they won't be living nearby when they do come. I will keep this in mind when that time comes. With two grown sons and one last teen-ager at home, this stage of life seems to be one of constant letting go.

[Mary DeMuth]

Beautiful post, Jeannekins. I'm recommending it!

[Jean Wise]

Beautiful post. Grandkids certainly steal our hearts. Whoosh! and they take over and we can only hold them by letting go. I recently wrote a post about that reflecting upon my son's birth in light of his graduation from seminary. very similar feelings. thanks for sharing.

[katdish]

Oh, Jeanne! What a beautiful post. Praying for you. Reading this today was just what I needed. Thank you, my friend.

[Cortney O'Kelley]

You have to be one of the most gifted people I know- what a BEAUTIFUL blog! Thank you for sharing!

[Susan Meissner]

absolutely stunning, this.

[Jennifer King]

Beautiful feelings and ponderings that you've shared. Thank you, Jeanne. You touch so many hearts...

[Heather Sunseri]

Amazing post, Jeanne. I'm sitting here wondering how much pain I self-inflict instead of letting God comfort me. I should give in and let him take my hand more often.

[melanie]

I needed to hear this today, Jeanne, thanks!

[Jeanne Damoff]

Thanks so much for your kind words and encouragement, everyone. I love reading your thoughts. And thanks for the prayers. I need them!

Much love,
Jeanne

[Sherri L Woodbridge]

Jeanne - you have such a beautiful way with words. I can truly understand your 'heartache'. I have learned (a lifelong process!) that the parts we don't let go of are parts that we hold back from allowing God to work through. That was an Aha moment... My prayers will be with you as you let go on Monday...

[Kathleen]

iLike

[Jenn Calling Home]

This is beautiful...and so is your granddaughter! Blessings!