Waving a white flag does not always signal defeat. For me, it is a showing of bravery and admission of human weakness. We all suffer with weakness, though some are better than others at hiding it or better yet, disguising it. If we choose to play this game of cat and mouse then we are offering up a distorted view of ourselves to the outside world, especially to those friends and family members that may emulate this false behavior. On the surface my house is usually straight/organized. Ha. If you dig a bit deeper you will discover the myriad of places I have found to shove with clutter- artwork beneath a bench cushion in my kitchen, a variety of camping objects stuffed under beds (we have yet to do any real camping), or perhaps a variety of pans that almost overflow from my warming drawer that I have yet to use due to its' superficial storage capacity. We can all relate to these types of weakness and laugh generally at minor faults that may portray us in a less than perfect light. In fact, most of us in this day and age are comfortable admitting we feed our children processed foods, allow them to play video games more than we care to admit, spent way too much time on social media, or even, strive to love our husbands in the ways we think we should.
However, how many of us have truly surrendered? Not only to ourselves but to the outside world, our closest friends and confidantes? I think I thought I had but not really. I don't think everyone is required to do this in the same way. For me, writing has always been therapeutic and I am the third generation female writer on my mother's side. It seems only natural that I can share my secrets this way, anonymously, from my couch in the dark wee hours when my house is finally quiet and I am alone. It's at this same time that I most need to be cloaked in my white flag as I am naturally shrouded with debilitating fear. This fear wells up inside of me when I finally do get quiet and seek God's presence. It is so terrifying that I close my heart and mind like a hungry Venus fly trap weary of biting off more than I can chew. I admitted my greatest fear of late to a few dear friends and was overcome with the cleansing that came with the admission. What I said was, "my greatest fear is that Amos won't be able to be in a regular kindergarten". There. I've said it for all the world to see, read, comprehend, dispute, or most scarily, agree. The wave of comfort I receive each time I have said this or now written truly is comfort that passes all human understanding (Philippians 4:7). It no longer is shrouded in denial and cloaked in fear that is macabre and frightening. Instead, it is a white flag waving, asking, seeking comfort for a fear that is a long way off but oh so heavy on my heart. I am reminded that God knows how my story ends and I'm reminded to focus on today as it surely has enough worries of its own (Matthew 6:34). How I love the author of transparency, what a gift we give others when we choose to not err on the side of caution and seek love and acceptance for the way we were created, none of us perfect on our own.
The future is far away and scary but today is lovely, wonderful and full of laughter. I choose to live with acceptance and hope, humor and tears, and thankfulness for God's grace. Who knew it could shield a mother from despair and offer delight?