Letting Go

Long before I became a follower of Jesus, I started going on a yearly serenity retreat weekend at the Franciscan Retreat House in Prior Lake, Minnesota.  The retreats were open to anyone in AA/Al-Anon and although a Catholic mass was held on Sunday morning, attendance was completely optional and there was no faith requirement.

I loved the retreats.  Father Howard or other guest speakers would teach lessons on the 12 Steps from the AA Big Book and we would break into small groups and sit in circles throughout the halls and library of the musty retreat house and talk about our hurts and struggles with complete strangers.  There was something mystical to me about the retreat house that at the time captivated me.  The candles, the quiet, the long, underground hallway with the Stations of the Cross, the secret statues hidden along the path in the woods, and the benches scattered all about the grounds were to me symbols of the peace I felt at this place of rest.  I understood nothing about the Catholic faith or the true meaning of the stations and statues, but I felt at peace in the rooms and on the grounds.  This is where I first started to pray and journal and listen for the voice of God. A God that I didn’t yet know, but that I felt drawn to all the same.

Can you recall a time in your life when you heard God’s voice so clearly, that there was no denying it was God?  I have had a few of those God moments, and the first occurred at one of these serenity retreats.  My son, Al, had just been diagnosed with autism and I was struggling with the shock, fear, guilt and confusion that comes with the diagnosis of disability. Al was my first child, and we didn’t pick up on the signs right away.  In fact, Al was five years old before he was diagnosed with autism.  I felt tremendous guilt over not recognizing the signs and ignoring them once they became evident.  I now know that I was in denial.  I wanted to believe that it was nothing.  That he was just a little developmentally delayed. That he would catch up.  When I heard the word autism, I had no idea what it meant.  I spent night after night reading everything I could about it and what therapies or medications would fix it.  ABA, PT, OT, Speech, special diet, aquatic therapy, horse therapy, supplements, chelation…I was flooded with information and suggestions and completely overwhelmed.

As I sat among the circle of chairs in the little library at the retreat house, waiting for my turn to share, all of the fear and anxiety welled up inside of me like a geyser ready to erupt.  Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the woman who sat across from me.  She was sharing about her daughter who struggled with drug addiction.  The hurting mother had spent years trying to fix her, but God had recently spoken to her and told her, “I LOVE HER MORE THAN YOU DO.  LET HER GO.”

As she spoke, it was like the whole world went silent and the lights went out.  All I heard were those words in my head, and I knew at that very moment that God was speaking to me through that stranger.  I didn’t know her name then, and I still don’t today, but I know without a doubt that God used her to speak into my heart  that day.  God loves my son more than I do.  To some, that may seem so obvious, but I did not know God.  I did not know John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life or 1 John 3:1 See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.  But that day, God spoke to me and I knew that because He loved my son even more than I did, he would be okay.

It is hard to let go.  I can’t tell you how many times since that day, I have grasped onto the truth of those words.  I have had to remind myself time and time again that God loves my children more that I do and even though I want to protect them and fix them, I can’t.  I have to let them go to God and trust,  Trust that God is faithful and God is in control and that God works for those who wait for Him (Isaiah 64:4).

I was reminded of that today and thought maybe somebody else needed to hear it.