“Trust Me”

I’ve had so much on my mind lately, it’s hard to settle on a single topic to post about. I’ve been dealing with an overwhelming sense of anxiety and oppression lately, though, so perhaps this post stems from those feelings.

As Little Man came upon four months old this week, and as the leaves outside are not only changing color, but starting their descent to the ground, I came to terms with what I believe is a season of preparatory change. For the last few weeks, I’ve felt the Lord has been leading me to and through a time of preparation. I have no idea what for or what that means, but I see things being put in motion that confirm change is imminent. 
The problem I have, however, is I don’t know whether the change is going to be easy, good, stressful, traumatizing, or neutral. I have no idea. I have no control. I have no way to prepare other than to just go with the flow. Being a control freak, this sense of knowing change is coming, not knowing what that change is, and knowing there is nothing I can plan for to contribute to it’s success or implementation sends panic and anxiety pulsing through every vein in my being. 
“Trust me.” I hear. But what does that mean, to trust?
Up until last year, I always acted as though trust was circumstantial. I trust, in this instance, this will be the outcome. I trust, in this instance, I can rely on this process. I trust, with this information, I can tell this person. Never have I associated trust with an all-encompassing purpose. Even when trusting God in all areas of my life, those areas were compartmentalized separately, as was the trust associated with them. There was no blanketing with a single hope or purpose. “Everything” was one thing at a time, dealt with one piece at a time, with one feeling of trust at a time.
It makes sense in my world to have a place for everything and everything in its place, and making exceptions for emotions or feelings did not compute. Even now, I struggle with an all-encompassing degree of trust, but I’m learning how it benefits me far greater than piecemeal assembly.
We have a women’s ministry event coming up, that I have once again been asked to emcee. Prior to being asked, I was writing in my prayer journal a very woe-is-me prayer. I have emceed three times, and knew for sure they were tired of me, I had played out my welcome, and the baton would be passed to someone else. I was feeling sorry for myself because emceeing these events absolutely fills my tank to overflowing. I want to emcee for my own selfish reasons of being filled. The very next morning I got an email stating, “You’re probably emceed out, but would you consider being the emcee again…” I felt about four inches tall. Here I was having a pity party, and for no reason. “Trust me.” 
Since the planning stages of this event, the Lord has, very purposefully and intently, laid a verse upon my heart. Matthew 11:28 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” 
I am weary. I am certainly burdened. Instead of approaching Him for rest, however, I walk in big circles all around him, dragging my baggage behind me. I can see Him, always keeping at least the corner of my eye on His whereabouts. I can hear Him, keeping Him close enough to catch anything He might say. But I keep my distance, and tread in the path I’ve indented in the ground, from never straying away from it. What will it take for me to climb out and approach Him, to hand off my weighted worry, fear, doubt, and anxiety, and to trade it all for rest? “Trust me.”
But… I did. I did trust you, and my daughter died. I trusted I would finally have a normal pregnancy, and instead we buried our baby. After losing her, I trusted we would bring a baby into this world without a stressful or tragic pregnancy. It was such a close call. Too close. Rather than trusting you now that Little Man is here safely, I focus on the fact he nearly wasn’t. “Trust me.”
We’ve had some situations arise very recently that give us cause to worry and fret, that make us uncertain about our future and stability. When the ground has been so shaky beneath your feet for so long, it doesn’t take too big a jolt to knock you off balance. We have no idea what’s in store for us, we have no idea what these circumstances or situations mean, we have no idea the purpose for them, or the plan for us. We have no idea. “Trust me.”
I’ve realized, today, I’m tired of worrying. I’m tired of fretting. I’m tired of those feelings and emotions being completely unproductive in changing any results. I am not the provider for my family. God is. I have to trust Him. I would much rather lay my burdens at His feet and have rest in return, than continue to carry them and entrap myself in the same rut, as I go about in circles avoiding the One who can help me.
“Trust me.” I’m not sure I know how to do that completely, but I’ve got to try. I can’t compartmentalize pieces of my life, or of my trust. It’s all or nothing. Here I go, Lord. Head first. Grant me rest.


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