Of White Knuckles and Dragon Scales…

At age 4, I was diagnosed with Leg Perthes (a disorder of the hip joint in which the ball of the femur disintegrates). Surgeries, a full leg/hip cast, wheelchair, bedpans, crutches and physical therapy followed….

I became an older sister.

My mother and father were smokers. I was an allergic asthmatic who was sick more often than not.

I entered puberty early, against my will.

My father had a heart attack when I was 11; and then he had a fatal one when I was 23.

I married a man who struggled with alcoholism.

I struggled ( still struggle) with food and weight.

I could not get pregnant the traditional way. (Was I being punished because I was horrified by the changes of womanhood at too young of an age, or, for how I behaved with boys prior to marriage?) However, through the miracles of modern science, we were blessed with our daughter.

We were involved in a pretty major car accident in which a car turned right in front of us and caused us to swerve into oncoming traffic. I was 4 months pregnant at the time. I sustained no injuries (it was truly a miracle) and my husband suffered some brain contusions and back issues.

Our daughter was always a spirited and challenging child (and she still is at age 11).

She was diagnosed with ADHD and anxiety at age 6.

She was kicked in the head by a horse and suffered spider-web fractured maxillary bones, a broken nose, two brain contusions, a lip laceration and it worsened her ADHD and anxiety.

She pulls her hair and/or picks her scalp in response to her medications for ADHD.

God has been teaching me about control my whole life; but, I have been fighting it tooth and nail as far back as I can remember. Like a tug-o-war: God says, ‘I got this.”  I reply, ” No, I got this, ” or, “You’re not doing it the way I want you to,” and God says, ‘ No, really, I’ve got this handled,” and  so on…

In hindsight I can see that God has been trying to tell me all along,“Kristin, I have this covered. Trust me. Rely on me. Put your faith in me. You cannot handle this all on your own. I am here.

                                                                                                                   But I just won’t let Him...

dragon scales and aslan

I have been white-knuckling it for so many years, that it’s like picking off a layer of skin.

It brings to mind the scene in Narnia’s Voyage of the Dawn Treader in which the cousin, Eustace Scrubb, turned into a dragon. Aslan came to him and told him that he would need to remove his scales, one by one – it wouldn’t be easy, it would hurt, but it would be of benefit to him. In fact, Aslan helped remove the scales. And afterwords, he was changed.

Can I loosen my grip on my need for control?  I think I can – but I need time and help – God’s help.  I need Him to show me little by little ( scale by scale) that I can let go of my fears, worries resentments and anger.  It’s time.  It is SO time….

I want to be changed from the inside out…how about you?

 

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My Chat with God ( part 6 in my story)

Alright, God, you want me to do what?

Stay with your husband.

Ok, what am I suppose to do here?

Let. Go.

Huh?

Let ME handle it.

HOW in the world are you going to do that?

In time you will see.

Ugh….really God?  Can’t you just perform a miracle or something and banish the disease?

Have a little faith in ME. {can’t you just see the grin?}

How am I supposed to do that when I feel like the ground has fallen out from beneath me?

beginning

beginning

One day at a time –one hour, one minute or one breath at a time, if you need to.

You do realize you are telling a control-freak worrywart to turn everything over to you, right?

Yes. I do.

Where were you when this was all happening?!

Beside you…

Do you remember the car accident when you were four months pregnant?  The one when Jimmy was driving you to work?  When the little white car turned in front of you making your husband’s red truck spin into oncoming traffic? With the child you had just conceived through your second round of in-vitro fertilization?  She was four months old in your womb.  I was there.  There were angels, including your father, all around protecting you and Lil Miss Abigail.  You didn’t feel the impact – you were not assaulted by the air bags, you were not cut by your seat belt or pelted by any shards of glass.  You were safe in my arms.  That’s where you will always be.  Trust in me. Rest in me.

Deep breath…

Release the shoulder tension with a deep sigh…

I will.

One minute at a time.

One hour at a time.

One day at a time.

I will learn to trust again.

Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you. – 1 Peter 5: 7