Out of Control

There's no shortage of support groups when it comes to addictions. From one corner of the internet to another a bumper crop of sites exist to help you stop smoking, lose weight, deal with grief and loss or endure through illness--and, don't get me wrong, these are all wonderful, necessary groups.

But I'm having difficulty finding one for struggling control freaks.

(Now, if you happen to have knowledge of such a group, please direct it Arkward so that I can once and for all control this ever-so-annoying personality quirk. And please do it quickly. I really need to take care of this soon. Actually, I'd like a big ol' check mark next to it by sometime tonight...Oh man, listen to me...you can see how dire the situation has become.)

It's so bad that I've stopped with the prayers of, "Dear Lord, please help me to let You be in control." Not because I don't believe in the power of prayer, quite the contrary, that prayer has been so powerful that on several occasions God's given me exactly what I prayed for...

Way back in early 1995, when the Boy was just a wee Boy, and after a textbook pregnancy and delivery and recovery, MY plans included another baby post haste. And then nearly four years later when I was finally pregnant with baby number two. I thought I heard a quiet Voice whisper, "You know, you're not in control." But I brushed it off. And after a very difficult delivery and recovery, it occurred to me that perhaps this timing was better than what I had been thinking after all; but after a minute that thought flitted to some little used part of my brain not to be heard from again. Not until baby number three decided that not one, not two, not three, not even four-but nearly five years later she would make an appearance; which was not quite what I had pictured. As I held that not-so-tiny baby, I was quite certain that same voice spoke again, louder and more firmly, "You know, you're not in control." Finally, I thought, "Okay, God, I get it. I'm not in control."

Check that off the list--

God = control
me = notsomuch

But my understanding was short-sighted, as only five months later I stood inside church, talking to a newly pregnant friend saying, "Charts, schmarts...what do I need those for? I simply don't get pregnant." Two days later, staring incredulously at a little white stick in my bathroom, amidst what sounded like laughter, I very clearly heard, "You know, you're not in control..." pause "and you're one of My slower learners," followed by more chuckling.

Why then, should it surprise anyone to know that I assumed that compared to pregnancy, childbirth and recovery that the adoption process would be a snap. Why? Well, because--finally--I would have control. (Can't you just see God shaking His mighty head?) As we're back in the process again, knee-deep in paperwork, finances and the like, the landscape of adoption is changing in Ethiopia and I'm cringing, as off in the distance, I think I hear that voice calling to me again.