I have been thinking and reflecting on this simple phrase a lot lately, and I think it’s where I’m at in my life or something. God has to be driving, and I find that when I stop trying to steer the car, we go to good places and the scenes are nice out of the window or, if not always so pretty, then at least bearable. But when I’m trying to fight him for the control, or when I kick him out at a rest stop, terrible things happen – I back into light poles, the lights get smashed, I run out of gas. I’ve gotten better at this tremendously, but I’ve still got a LONNNNNNNNNNNNG way to go. Spending an hour at Adoration has been the fuel for my tank, the encouragement that “yes, Sarah, God does know more than you” (painful to admit that I have that thought).

Whenever I let go and let God, flowers bloom, blessings blossom, stars sparkle. When I try to take over, I experience the frustration and anger that used to be my benchmark for success. It’s funny, because sometimes God will hit me over the head with a bat to get my attention. There was a year that I taught CCD for this very reason, and looking back, I needed it as much as the parish needed me. I married my husband because of a baseball bat encounter (or at least, that’s what I think made him finally propose), and my life is infinitely better because of it.

But there’s just no teaching me. God is sure patient with me, the stubborn mule that I am. There’s not getting me to understand that he can do it better and he does have my best interests in mind. I’ll be going along, humming a little tune, and WHAP. There’s that baseball bat. Other times, and more often, it’s more like the road gradually turns from asphalt to gravel and then to dirt and then to mud and then I’m mired up to my ears, crying and pleading and wishing I had just done what I should have done in the first place: let go and let GOD!