Control-ectomy

The last two days have felt like major surgery.

I had kept telling myself that things would get better by Wednesday. By Wednesday we'll be in our rhythm and have the schedule down. 

I didn't realize how painful the journey would be to get to Wednesday.

Each day is a new adventure. Each day we seem to be operating on less and less sleep.

Tuesday afternoon things came to a head.  There's a tradition on this trip of going for ice cream. Big T and I were going back and forth about whether or not to go for ice cream. We had decided to go, I thought. Big T thought we were still undecided.

He took the boys swimming in the lake. When I realized there wasn't a lot of time left, I got a bag ready for them to go shower off so we'd be ready for ice cream. When I got to the beach, Big T and I had a disagreement about what was happening. Did I mention that he was about 30 feet out in the lake and I was up on shore? Did I also mention there were lots of people around?

In the end I took the boys for ice cream with the group. I didn't particularily want to go for ice cream, but I thought the boys wanted to go and it was a tradition. I felt so self-less. Self-righteous is more like it. I was fuming mad. I felt like Big T was being selfish and I was owed an apology. Not only that, I was going to hold a grudge and make him suffer. Seriously, who's supposed to be the adult on this trip?

The next morning Big T did apologize. I felt a little vindicated and knew in my head that I should apologize as well. 

I refused.

As I rode the bus to our ministry site I cried out to God. Deep down, way deep down, I didn't want to be angry any longer. A little closer to the surface, I totally wanted to stay mad. I was crying out to God for him to cut "self" and "control" out of me. Cut them out and fill in the gaping wound with himself and his control.

The words from "All that I am" come rushing back to me.

It's only in surrender that I'm free.

It's only in surrender that I'm truly free.

During our family time we had to answer the question, "What are you going to back home with you from this trip?"

A whole lot less of myself was my answer, my hope.

Hopefully I'll leave here with a whole lot less of myself.