Learning To Let Go

I think from here on out I'm going to stop apologizing from my lack of posts and gently ask you to not expect me to post too consistently. As much as I'd love to have an hour or two to literally sit and write every day, that does not happen for months on end. But I'm here tonight, and that makes me so grateful! I've been itching to blog for weeks and I finally caught a good moment to curl up with a little wine, a couple candles, and a lot of writing material to approach this one with. I hope it was worth the wait (I say this as if you were waiting for it. You probably weren't but that's alright). Also, disclaimer: this is one of my more vulnerable posts. Bear with me. Thanks)!

Five years ago to the day, I was at the tail end of my eighth and final cross country season. One crisp autumn day at practice, coach decided that our form during races while going downhill was terrible - he explained how we were locking up our bodies, as if we were afraid to fall, and that it was slowing us down when we could be taking advantage of the downhill momentum. He instructed us instead to loosen our limbs as much as we could - expanding our arm span to further widen the strides between each step. In his words, "you have to learn to just let yourselves go."

As a senior, I was the captain of twenty-one girls and therefore was depended on by my coach to be a leader - the one who goes first. So of course, he volunteered me to demonstrate what a proper downhill should look like - "Molly, you're the captain here. Why don't you show the girls how it's done?"

I laughed as I confidently strutted to the top of the steepest hill of our course. I gazed down the yellow grass that sloped to the flat surface at the bottom of the incline, assessing the difficulty and carefully planing out my steps before taking the first one. When I felt ready, I went for it - I leaped my leg out in front of me and let the other follow, transforming every joint in my body into jello. I felt as if I had a hold of myself for maybe the first five steps, and then quickly realized I was doomed when my legs began moving with too much speed for the rest of my body to handle. I guess this is why they say it's the captain that goes down with the ship.

Before I knew it, my legs had completely given out behind me as my body slammed into the ground halfway down the hill, my face planted into the muddy grass, and my legs ending up over my head as I front-flipped my way to the bottom. And then I just laid there as my coach and teammates burst into hysterics (which is okay, because I was doing the same). Since our course was in the back of our fairgrounds (yes, the one I passed out at), the grass was covered in cow droppings. That day was the day my teammates endearingly coined, "the practice Molly literally ate shit."

I got up and tried again, the next time more successfully. After each attempt, I slowly began to develop the art of letting my body go in a somewhat-controlled form without ending up covered in crap. With each meet that went by after that, I used each downhill to pass as many people as I could. It quickly became my favorite part of each race, aside from the end.

Several autumns later, I'm in a completely different stage of life but I'm still learning to just let myself go - except I'm currently in the position of front-flipping out of control. For as long as I can remember, I've been running through life in a locked-up position: planning my future carefully before I take a step to ensure everything goes exactly how I expect it to, kind of like I did that day at cross country practice right before face-planting. And that's exactly where it lead me today - a place I never pictured myself in when I took the first step into this new stage of life.

I'm over ten months out of college (what), I can barely pay my rent, my job is beyond mediocre and not a day goes by that I don't think "what the heck am I doing?" Before I had a purpose in waiting this season out, but to my own surprise the relationship I planned my life around no longer exists. I'm suddenly trying to figure out what the future looks like by myself, and I'm in a space where I literally don't know to do that. This has caused me to wrestle with a ton of emotions, a lot of soul-searching, answer-seeking, confusion, hurt, and hopelessness, to be honest. I haven't thought about Molly's future with no one else attached in five years. It's one of the most strange and uncomfortable places I've ever been.

To deal with this, my natural, control-freak instinct wants to carefully narrow each option down and carefully plan out the next step in my life - and that's where I'm being challenged. I just returned home from a college retreat with my church here, now that I'm a college ministry leader (which is an absolute blessing, by the way). Last night during our last session, Todd Roberts, pastor of Antioch Sheffield in England (I know - awesome, right?) spoke about making ourselves available to God's call. It's less about being called to a specific vocation or ministry, and more about making ourselves available to what God has for us. During his message, he asked "Are you making yourself available, and if not what is it that's holding you back?" It hit me like a brick wall. I realized that for the last five years, I've just been waiting for the ultimate call, never really feeling as if I'm right where I'm supposed to be. And it never really came because I was never available enough for God to use me the way He wanted to - the relationship I was planning everything else around was holding me back.

Another addition to God's art gallery from last night.

When Todd found himself in this position, he felt God was telling him to sacrifice the American Dream - stop worrying about finding your wife and settling down. Nothing has ever resonated with me so much. I've never wanted anything more than that - to settle down, start my life with someone I love, and have a family, a dog, a house that looks like Pinterest threw up on it, a Subaru Forester with a youth league soccer bumper sticker (I know, someone slap me please). But last night I realized that I've been living my life with my body locked, my mind fixated on the idea of that - and I wasn't going anywhere too far until I was moving toward that. Last night was also day one of God teaching me, "you just have to learn to let yourself go."

So here I am - letting go. Of the American Dream, the ridiculously good-looking husband, the rustic, quote-filled house, the yellow lab, and not just the things of the future, but the present - my job, my finances, the opinions of my family, my comfort, and the things that make sense. I'm available, and I'm ready for anything. I'm at the top of the hill again, but this time I'm not planning out my steps - I'm taking the free fall, trusting that my eternal Coach is there to keep me from falling as those I'm leading watch on. I have no idea where it will take me, and I'm scared out of my mind to let go of the control of the future I've always clenched in my fists - but I'm excited to see what happens as I surrender that to the One who holds my future. I'm already slowly seeing the beginning of this journey - but I'll wait to see it come to fruition a bit before I share that part with you all.

I was given some hope last night, as I had a bit of deja vu. Three years ago (almost to the exact day), I was a sophomore in college on my own retreat as a student. The message was the same, and I decided to let go (temporarily) of the things that were holding me back. The band called those who were making that decision to surrender themselves to God's call to the front - and as I knelt before the Father, I sobbed - but I had never felt so free. That year, I experienced the love of God more closely than ever before, and at the end of that spiritual high I was baptized. Last night, I decided to permanently give up control of my life and make myself available to whatever it is God has for me. I was again called to the front to kneel down and receive prayer. I again felt the freedom I hadn't felt in three years. It may have been a completely different retreat with totally different musicians, but as all of this happened the band played the same song that had played in that very moment three years ago. Here it is, of course today's song of the day:

"I Surrender" by Hillsong

"Here I am, down on my knees again

Surrendering all, surrendering all,

Find me here, Lord as You draw me near

I'm desperate for you, I surrender...

...Lord have Your way in me."