beating against the waves

It’s 8 o’clock in the morning and my phone goes off. I had set an alarm for 9, so I immediately hit the snooze like any college student would. But it doesn’t stop. I get a text and decide to read it before going back to sleep.

“Dad’s been admitted to the hospital. Give me a call when you get up. He’s ok...something going on with his stomach.”

When people say it hits you like a wave, they mean it. The feeling of being out of control and helpless simultaneously hits you. Hard. My mind went to the last time I had seen my dad, happy and healthy, meeting me to give me the phone charger I had left at home. I gave him a hug, told him I loved him, and then left. Before you worry, my dad did not die. In fact, he had an emergency surgery and should be back to normal in a matter of days. But even after the fact, I cannot shake the feeling of that wave. The feeling of water filling your mouth and nose as you are overcome with the worst feeling of all: fear. Fear that this problem with dad’s stomach was more than just a small pain. Fear that the blockage in his colon was cancer. Fear that the hug I gave him before he was taken to the O.R. would be our last. These thoughts filled my head the entire time my family and I waited in that hospital. The reason I can’t shake it, though, is because the last thing on my mind was trusting God. I have always heard that to tell someone going through a tragedy to “trust God” was not the first thing you want to do, but I never understood why. I unconsciously was trying desperately to grasp air. I wanted, needed, control in this situation with my precious dad, and I could not have that. It wasn’t until he came out of surgery and we heard “good news” that I realized how exhausted I was. I wanted to hold my dad up, my family up, and myself all at once, and I physically and emotionally could not. I needed to trust God, but my mind was not ready yet. I know, as believers, we are called to trust God in every and all circumstances, but sometimes our hearts are not ready. Sometimes, God has to let us try to have control for just a moment in order to realize that we are incapable of having it. We are incapable of holding everything together for everyone and for ourselves. In that moment, we are exhausted and overwhelmed by the rush of water until we realize we can reach out and grab onto the buoy. It was always there, we just didn’t see it. I know, it is a cheesy analogy, but that is the best way I can think to describe what it feels like to not want to hear “trust God” because you aren’t ready to yet. I was not ready to give God control because it meant I had to relinquish it. The thing is, God is ok with that. He is still there after we have struggled on our own. He is always right there. He waits the way the man in all of our favorite 90’s romantic comedies does for the recently heartbroken and emotionally damaged woman. That crazy in love waiting because he does love us so much that he will wait for us. When we finally tire of swimming, he takes our hand. I think immediately of Peter and the storm. God waited, knowing Peter was not ready to trust him. He waited. Having my dad be on the other side of the hospital bed was a wake up call for me. Life is precious and short. Anything can happen in an instant, but are we going to be ready to trust God when it does? As much as we would all like to say yes, when that moment happens, we may realize quickly that we are saying no. Either way, God is right there waiting when we are ready to finally catch our breath after struggling against the waves.