Just another Hurricane

As Sandy arrived on schedule and slammed into the hood I remembered that this meteorological monstrosity was just a clear reminder that I have no control of anything in my life. None of us do really. In spite of this revelation I was still preparing for the disaster film I was producing in my head. Especially the scene where a gust of wind topples a tree that crushes my now empty house with only one middle aged bald dude inside. In spite of this epiphany I still spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about what might or might not happen. I raised all the boxes off the garage floor that were filled with the stuff I decided incorrectly that I still needed in my my life and that were now bound for New Hampshire so they could collect dust there in order that they would avoid destruction from the pending flood resulting from the sump pump failure in my script. I moved my truck out into the street where it had a better chance of not being crunched by a water logged oak and all I could think about as what would happen after the lights went out and I could no longer see anything but the rain against the window and the only sound I could hear would be the groaning of the forest as it battled Sandy’s fury. I had tried desperately two days prior to Ms. Sandy’s arrival to get one of my local Amish lumberjacks to stop by the house before the storm arrived and cut down a few of the tallest and most likely to commit the act of domicile decapitation; but of course I was in a long line of frantic folks living in the woods with the same idea. The fact was the entire month of October had been like this for me; a game of cat and mouse with control vs. Surrender. My three week egoistic need to control outcomes only resulted in the energy sapping generation of worries about every choice I had made up to that very moment, including the three major moves I had planned to coincide simultaneously and the emotional accord I made to auction away most of my old life.  I worried about crap like shipping rates, insurance, packaging, property values, customs, taxes, car sales, cleanup and mountains of paperwork and followups. I fretted and freaked each morning I awoke and noticed I had barely made a dent even though mountains of things had been boxed, bagged or bailed. I looked around at the impossible task I had willingly chosen that never seemed to get smaller but still vowed I could get it done, I would make it work, I was clever, there had to be an answer! I whirled and whirled and whirled around these self inflicted problems and questions and as I did this I unwittingly spawned another emotional hurricane in my life and I had absolutely no control of that beast I had just given birth to. I’m sure that it was at this moment when God had a good belly laugh as he saw tropical storm Sandy form over the Bahamas and suddenly signal for a hard left turn as it held a big sign that read “Honey Brook or Bust”. He knew I was out of options except for the one He gave me from the very beginning; the one I preach about daily but constantly fail to adopt as my own; The Option of Surrender. That meant Surrender to this storm and every other storm of life that will emerge and will have its way. Surrender to my inability to control outcomes. Surrender to faith instead of fear and Surrender to my own weaknesses and to the fact that I wasn’t God after all. I thought about this as the wind howled and the darkness fell and I made my stand alone in Surrender. It wasn’t going to be easy, it wasn’t going to be fun but it was agreeing to turn off the projector, ask the director to put down the megaphone, put the production on hold and ask for all quiet on the set. After all; this was just another Hurricane. 


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