Thursday, August 19, 2010
Faith, trust, and a bicycle
I love school. I love writing papers, learning and sharing knowledge, discovering my limits and pushing them, and the feeling of control I get knowing I earned the grade I got, however low or high it may be. But I couldn't control Paul's school habits. I told myself I trusted him, but the truth was I didn't. At least, not with his school work, although it has taken me two years to admit. I took it upon myself to do what I could to keep him focused and motivated. Each night he would come after class to see me. We talk about our day and I would immediately start asking what I could do to help him with his semester. I offered to make flash cards. I told him that we could have study time and do homework together. I asked him about upcoming tests and reminded him of important academic dates.
If you are shaking your head right now it is because you know my husband. He has many gifts and a big brain is one of them. He's good at school and a motivated man.
He struggled that semester though. I think my (I wouldn't say nagging) soft spoken reminders brought him more stress than relief. At the end of his long school day he would come visit his fiance for an hour for some rest and reassurance, and instead was bombarded by more school bleh. Bless his heart. He was so patient and kind to me, and loved me through all those fears I had. As the next semester plopped under my radar I finally decided to leave him alone about it. I needed to trust him-- really trust him. He made a 4.0 that semester and my grades went up too.
So. . . I haven't bothered him about his school work since. I thought I'd learned my lesson.
But this summer has been difficult for me. Knowing there's a baby on the way, that I'll be leaving my job, and that I'll no longer be in control of the finances scares me to death. I've had to remind myself about the story above and try to trust Paul again with something new. But the can of worms that this trial has opened up has been a dark truth that I never thought I'd face.
I don't trust God either, at least, not the way I should.
I have faith that He's my creator. I know He loves me. I know He blesses and comforts me. I pray to Him asking for guidance and support, but being still and allowing Him to do that is. . . difficult. Letting someone else be in control is scary, even if it's deity.
I know, I have trust issues. Or control issues. Fine, both.
So, this summer when Paul and I discovered an apartment opening up closer to our parents we leaped at the opportunity to apply. We prayed. We asked our Heavenly Father to help us know if this was the direction we were to go. We felt good about it. One swift call to the landlady, and we were in the drawing of potential tenants. But many were as interested as we were. We asked Heavenly Father to prompt the landlords to choose us only if this is where He wanted us, and we promised to accept His will. Time passed and I began to battle discouragement.
He's an unpleasant guy, Discouragement. Gangling creature, too much facial hair in all the wrong places. I digress.
We got picked to live in the apartment. It was a miracle. They said we could move in by the 15th of August, but our current landlady required us to pay for all of August. We knew we couldn't afford to pay for two apartments at once, so we prayed again. The family moving out had some delays and the move-in date was pushed back 'til the end of the month. Perfect.
Next, we worried about school starting, buying books, paying a deposit and the timing of these events. We needed to sell our washer and dryer and some bookshelves to help raise the money we needed. I worried up the storm that flooded Utah streets today. I put up some ads online but realized the timing of these items selling was out of my control. I was afraid they wouldn't sell soon enough.
I know God has been guiding us through this whole process. I know He is aware of what I need. But I felt so afraid to trust Him at every turn because I didn't want to face the disappointment of not getting the answer I wanted.
So. He pushed my limits by giving me promptings I was afraid to follow, by putting a child in my womb, by making my circumstance uncomfortable enough for me to finally deal with that ugly problem I've avoided all my life.
I'm trusting Him now, maybe not perfectly, but I'm trying. I feel like I'm learning to ride a bike and He's staying close to me while I'm so wobbly. I'm crying out like I did when I was five, "Don't let go! I'm scared!" But He won't. I trust that.
We've sold the shelves and a man is coming to look at the washer an dryer in about an hour.
I'm pedaling still.