Surrender

I basically flew across town last night. I had to get to those I loved. I prayed as I drove up Second Street... please let them still be here. Please let them still be outside.

As I drove up the small hill just before their house, I saw them. Dark shadows racing up and down the sidewalk. I could hear their voices shrieking and yelling.

I was home.

I parked and brought my phone and keys with me for the first time. Having just come from a meeting, I wasn't dressed properly. And as kids began to pull on my skirt and try to climb in my lap, I wished I had a pair of shorts and tennis shoes.

I watched as he played baseball with an old wooden bat and a beaten up Solo cup. As she sat on the front porch at 9:30 at night and ate her dinner, spaghetti o's smeared all over face.

One of my children came racing down the sidewalk after me. He sprung forward and threw himself in my arms. But I was still holding my phone and keys and couldn't get a good hold around his little body and had to set him down.

Finally, at one point, I had to find a place to set everything down. A safe place where I could leave it until it was time to come back. And with empty hands I reached out.

It wasn't long until my arms were filled again. With crying little boys and laughing little boys and little girls with candy necklaces.

Today... God drew me a parallel, as He often does.

"Let go," He whispered.

"I have something for you and you've got all this stuff in your hands. What's that about? Put it down. Somewhere safe. You're going to need it again. But just put it down. I want your hands free and ready... your arms open for what I want to give you right now. I will fill them. Go ahead. Put it down."

He whispers this to me... and I know it's Truth.

It is, in fact, the very definition of surrender.

Fill my arms then, Lord. They're empty now.