Letting go - Part 3 (A moment of surrender)

After 35 years of getting to know myself, I would consider myself someone with a type B personality.  Fairly laid back, go with the flow... not someone who pushes time or schedules or (subsequently) arrives on time to most places.  There is something about becoming a parent that has turned me into more of a time-keeper.  There is this inherent focus on schedules, as we move into the role of caring for babies and children.  The importance of routine.  And there is something else, too, which I think can be categorized as this need to be in control as a parent, to accomplish the demands and responsibilities that this role requires.  You always hear how consistent discipline and structure are good for kids... which for the most part, I think is true.  And as parents, we become the discipline-rs and the structure keepers.  It is our JOB, to create a sturdy frame within which children can grow and develop and flourish. 

And it can be challenging, because children rarely want to keep a schedule or a routine.  They've got THINGS to do, and their OWN time frame that they want to do them in. 

Hazel and I took a walk around the neighborhood recently, on a warm sunny day.  If you've ever taken a walk with a two-year old, you know how not relaxing/stress-inducing this can be.  Mostly it involves lots of stopping to inspect rocks and tree branches and bugs, and constantly intervening when said two-year old tries to run into the street or pick the neighbor's flowers or run up to knock on other people's doors or hang out on their front stoop.  We were already behind schedule on this particular day, as we typically are.  But Hazel really wanted to go outside, so we went for a quick stroll (ha) so she could enjoy the nice weather and we could avoid a tantrum. 

As the "quick stroll" turned into a long-winded full blown nature adventure, I found myself getting more and more frustrated.  Rushing her along more and more.  "We still have to fix and eat lunch, and then change her diaper, and then read books, and then put her down for a late nap, which will mess things up at bedtime...."  These were the thoughts running through my head.  I felt like I was pushing and pushing, and it was quite ineffective.  Like trying to squish a giant ball of slime into a tiny box.  The more I pushed, the more Hazel wanted to wander along.  And eventually, she just sat in the grass and started picking dandelions, one of her new favorite things to do.

We've been in this situation many many times before.  And sometimes, after I've given her the 5 minute/3 minute/1 minute warnings and she still refuses to come willingly, I pick her up and carry her inside. Sometimes screaming and crying... sometimes not.  Being super pregnant, my feet hurt and my back ached.  I was physically tired from all the standing and walking and redirecting, and I was mentally tired from trying to coax and push and rush Hazel to get back home.  And I really didn't feel like picking her up and carrying a screaming 28-pound girl all that way back. 

So I dropped the fight, mostly from sheer exhaustion, and I plopped myself down in that grass with her.  And what I felt in that moment was remarkable.

I felt immediate relief.  I felt almost weightless, like a huge burden had been lifted.  I felt a swelling of peace.  Hazel beamed, and said "Mommy sit down!"  She picked dandelions and then handed them to me so I could blow away all the quills into the warm, spring breeze.  I noticed, for the first time, how full and green the grass looked and how comforting the rays of sun felt on my arm.  I watched Hazel, and I really saw her.  I saw the delight and the contentment on her face.  I saw how her hair moved, across her sweet sturdy shoulders as she reached for another flower to pick.  We didn't say much... and that was okay.  I had instantly moved from the spinning, pushing thoughts in my head, to a sensory awareness of all that surrounded me.  We sat there for some time.  I'm not sure how long.  And it didn't really matter.

I was more relaxed than I had been in a long time.  Because I decided, in that moment, to let go.

I've been thinking a lot, in the last several years of my life, how important it is to let go from time to time.  We live in a society that thrives on busy - thrives on the constant push of life.  We love, and sometimes even NEED, to be in control - to accomplish and achieve and organize and produce.  To check off our to do lists, and multitask and juggle.  But in spite of all this striving... in spite of all that we achieve in a day, do we really feel at peace? 

I think real peace comes in these moments of surrender.

These moments, when we move out of our minds and into our bodies.  Into our senses.  Into what is happening around us, as it is happening.  When we let go of our attachment to how we think things ought to be, or to an outcome we think we have to achieve.  When we surrender our own will, to the will of the present.  There is so much beauty to be felt and to be seen in it...  so much that we often miss, when we grasp the reigns too tightly and fight to manage it all.  

All things considered, I know this isn't always easy.  But it was a memorable day for me, as my two-year old guided me and taught me about the art and the importance of surrender.  Of letting go of our schedule and our routine and all that I thought we needed...  to experience something so much greater. 

I hope to always carry this moment with me as a reminder, to let go when something greater calls. 

"The greatness of a man's power is the measure of his surrender."  ~William Booth