When I let go, I found the free life was just around the corner.  My daughter was three days old when we nearly lost her to heart failure.  As we were picturing our lives without her, she spontaneously recovered. It was not only her heart that was healed but mine as well.  A friend of mine asked about it the other day, saying, “So now you can just live knowing that everything will be ok?” She seemed matter-of-fact about it, and although I know that to be true, it just didn’t sit right. Even hearing the words made my stomach churn, but at that moment I couldn’t reconcile it in my mind.  As I sit this morning and reflect on the conversation, it is because I believe just the opposite. A dramatic shift occurred in my mind and heart after Samantha’s crash.

Everything is not ok…and that’s ok.

For so long I lived trying to keep life going, to keep the wheels from falling off, living for comfort and good fortune, pleasure and happiness.  When I let those things go, I found true life just around the corner. My idol was not a closet addiction or even success. My idol was “ok.” I just wanted everyone and everything to be ok…all the time…ok.

Everyone at the office…ok…check.

Everyone in my home…ok…check.

Extended family…ok…check.

The pattern was exhausting and unsustainable.  This world isn’t made for ok, so in my quest, I was missing it, and I was losing everything.  Not only was I not seeking God’s best, but in my strength, I was trying to hold together what was not made to be held together,  pieces of our shattered world that were not mine to carry. I see it in the eyes of other moms, of other women every day.

…I can’t do it all.

…I can’t be a mom at home and a successful businesswoman at work.

…I feel guilty wherever I’m not; I’m not doing any of it well.

…I can’t help my husband find his calling.

…I can’t fulfill him.

…I can’t make the kids do this or that.

What if these balances we live for, are not ours to carry?  What if your gaze was fixed on your Creator rather than your responsibility to keep life together?  What if you relied on Him to sustain all things? What if you passed to Him all of the pieces you are scrambling to hold together, and trusted that He knows better than you do?  This is what changed in my heart when Samantha crashed. Life became more than I could hold, and when it did, I had to hand it over to my God.

In the pass, I found life. I found freedom. I found the life I never knew I always wanted. When I started to hold nothing as my own but everything as His, I began to live for more than holding it all together. Because I carry nothing, I am free.  When I give everything to Jesus, holding loosely to what is ultimately His, I can love my husband better, I can cherish my kids without the fear of “what if,” I can watch time slip by and be grateful for the next breath, I can live, and I can love without fear.

When it became ok that everything is not ok, I found the freedom that is only found in the arms of my Jesus.  Rather than desperately holding the pieces, my life became running towards my Savior. And if my kids and husband and the people I love know Him too, then as we run together we don’t lose time, we gain life.  Every step is one closer to Him for eternity. The ultimate prize, the ultimate life.

Run with me.  Run with us…towards the arms of our Jesus.  He is calling out to you to live free. He is more than you could imagine…better than your best thought of Him.  If you can’t imagine anything better than Christmas morning, or your kids jumping off of the dock in life jackets on a sweet summer day, then you haven’t caught a glimpse of my Jesus.  He is so much more. At the slightest glimpse of your future forever with Him, you would leave these days in an instant. Don’t hold them too tightly.

On your best of days and your worst of days, keep your gaze looking towards your Creator, the Sustainer, the Author of life.  There is more. Don’t hold the pieces you were not meant to carry. Today, let it be ok if everything is not ok.

Taste freedom.  This is the life you never knew you always wanted.