I gave up the fight.
The fight to be in control of everything I cannot.
The fight to say “yes” because it feels like the right thing to do.
The fight to make sure every last crumb is swept up at the day’s end.
The fight to hide my insecurities, or the fact that I don’t always have it all together.
The fight to live in fear of what others might think of my child throwing a tantrum.
The fight to be the Pinterest mom, running myself ragged driving to Target late at night just to fit the “standard” I set for myself, while truly not many could live up to it.
The fight to do it all, be it all, and not flinch because “Capable Avenue” is the route I drive down everyday.
The fight to pretend I don’t struggle with anxiety and then not allowing myself grace to breathe.
As I drove home that day, my chest tight, my thoughts swelling in my head with all the things I’d yet to finish and all the things to come. I heard my heart saying, “Give it up, you are not alone.”
I teared up at the thought of our gracious God sitting on the sidelines of our life—waiting, hopeful.
That one day we see Him waving the white flag and give it all over to Him.
What a gift,
A blessing and a relief.
To know our story, while uncertain and unwritten by our standards, is a certified final draft.
So, I didn’t really give up the fight at all.
You see, I just gained leverage in the ring.
“Let my words be Your words and thy will be done in me.”
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