“We are all so ruined, so loved, and in charge of so little.” Anne Lamott
Our daughter Maggie is getting married in 46 days.
When she got engaged in November many people asked with concern in their voices “How are you doing?”
“Great!” I responded. “Austin (her fiancé) is terrific and I’m excited for them!”
And then, last week, driving down highway 100 at 4:00 in the afternoon, thinking of the possibility that Maggie and Austin may move to California (you know, like, at the opposite end of the world, and a continent away from daughter Katy), I found myself sobbing and thinking “I’m NOT ok! I’m losing my baby! I’m losing my family! I’m losing my identity! I hate change!”
I. Am. Out. Of. Control.
Yes, I was a tad over-dramatic, but give me my moment.
Everything feels like it’s slipping, slipping, slipping out of my hands, out of my control, like the gooey “gak” I used to make with the kids when they were little.
Change. Loss. New beginnings.
I’m not the only one. I have young friends who are graduating, some going back to school, and others who are moving, some taking big new risks. My sister-in-law after much prayer, just resigned from a job she’s loved for years.
Sometimes I feel like I’m losing myself and sometimes finding myself. Sometimes both in the same moment. Can you relate?
Driving down the highway, swiping at tears, and wallowing in my loserdom I was interrupted by my phone ringing. It was a close friend who said, “Did I just pass you on the highway and are you OK??!”
To me it was a Hagar moment.
A personal reminder from God that He is El Roi, the God who sees me.
Hagar… Abraham’s servant who he slept with to “help” God out in getting an heir (don’tcha know) and appease his wife Sara who then got jealous and abused Hagar so she and her son Ishmael ran away into the desert to die. (Quite a story smooshed into a single sentence!)
There God showed up and reminded Hagar that He is the God who sees us. Always. No matter what the circumstances. We are always found in Him.
But not “seeing” like a gawker driving by an accident. Instead, a “seeing” that numbers the hairs on our heads and knows our past, present and future.
It’s a seeing that stoops to write in the dirt, that stops to single us out in a crowd, that has the conversation in the heat of the day at a well when we think we’d rather not be seen.
It’s a “seeing” that enters into our pain and reminds us that everything will change, except God. We’re never lost to Him. And we are always secure in Him.
When’s the last time you felt like you were losing yourself?