I Surrender All

“Hold it all together, everybody needs you strong. But life hits you out of nowhere, barely leaves you holding on.” This is the beginning of Just Be Held by the Christian rock group Casting Crowns. This song has been my anthem this week. Monday began with denial. On Tuesday my fear of birds was set aside to mimic one – I stuck my head in the sand. But on Wednesday, I had to face reality. It was back. This terrible infection that plagued me for two years, that stole my vacations and ruined birthdays and holidays – that I thought I had finally gotten rid of just three months ago – it was back and just in time to attempt to ruin my summer.

Two years ago, I noticed a mild pain in my left breast. That pain turned into mastitis (my youngest child is 9, so you can imagine my surprise when the doctor diagnosed me!). Over fifteen months, mastitis turned into a massive abscess, which turned into sepsis, which sent me to surgery, which led to a 7 month battle with my body to heal and for the surgical wound to close. I am still reeling from that victory. I spent 28 days eating a plant-based diet – and zero sugar – and just 3 weeks into that, the wound that wouldn’t close from surgery finally closed. That was three months ago. And on Monday when I felt that familiar pain, I brushed it off. Tuesday when I noticed the pinkish tone my skin had turned, I knew but I refused to believe it. When I woke up Wednesday morning, I knew I had to do something, but I had a busy day planned so I just went about my day, ignoring the pain, the tenderness, the redness, and the pocket of fluid I could feel forming. Foolish, I know. I can’t explain the behavior.

Thursday morning I went to see my doctor and then a specialist, and by noon I was on antibiotics and headed home. I had clients calling, payroll checks to prepare, dishes to wash, and bags to pack for an out of town Bible Quizzing tournament – everybody needs me strong.

I was sitting in my office waiting for the printer to print the paychecks I had prepared and it hit me. “And when you’re tired of fighting, chained by your control, there’s freedom in surrender, lay it down and let it go.” I seemed to melt in my chair and sank to the ground. There, in the privacy of my office, I yelled. I wept. I sobbed. I cried out to God. I was angry and sad and frustrated and hurt – both physically and emotionally. I curled up in the fetal position with my legs tucked beneath me, my hands holding my head, and I let the snot fall on the floor. Life had just hit me out of nowhere and I was barely holding on. I don’t know how long I laid there but I am pretty sure it wasn’t long enough. Fear of someone finding me this way overcame me and I stood up, straitened my skirt and went to the shower. A midday shower was easier to explain than losing it. You see, I am a perfectionist. I am strong, fiercely independent. Asking for help is a sign of weakness, and when you are weak people take advantage of you.

It wasn’t until that evening when I was plucking my eyebrows that I noticed the dots on the bridge of my nose, between my eyes. Eight to ten blood vessels on either side of my nose had burst with my little fit. Ugh. Now there was evidence that I was weak, that I can’t always hold it all together. “So when you’re on your knees and answers seem so far away, you’re not alone, stop holding on and just be held.” Just. Be. Held. I don’t know how to just be held. Matter of fact, I don’t know how to just BE. My pastor preached one time that if God can’t get His message through to you the first time, He will bring you back around for a second attempt. Maybe that is where I am tonight. I didn’t learn the lesson, and now I am getting a second chance. It’s after 2 a.m. and I am sitting in a dark hotel room, my little girl’s soft snoring is keeping me company. And while I want to have a pity party or cry myself to sleep, I think I will close my eyes and whisper into the darkness, “I surrender all. I surrender all. All to Thee, my precious savior, I surrender all.”