Yesterday, sometime before our evening walk, I asked my husband to affirm something for me. “Tell me I can only control the things God has given me to control,” I requested. He didn’t laugh or tease. Maybe it was a reminder we both needed on a day when tears had been very close to the surface even though the Lord’s blessing had been very, very evident.
I can only control the things He has given me to control.
I can control the meals I put on the table for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I can’t control what will be on the shelves at the store, but our table? Yes.
I can control how often I check the news. I can’t control what’s actually going on in the world or the bias of sources, but how often I seek out what they’re selling? Yes.
I can control whether or not I entertain my worst fears about the future. I can’t control what will actually come down the pike, but what I allow to steal my joy now? Yes.
I can control how I frame this pandemic for my youngest kids. I can do little to cushion the blow for my adult children, but for my younger ones? Yes.
I cannot make everyone kind, or brave, or compassionate. I cannot save anyone, sustain anyone’s livelihood, offer anyone hope or comfort beyond the sound of my voice. I can only look to what I have been given in this season and nurture these people, in this space. I can only use the tools I’ve been given to reach out and encourage.
I can only control the things He has given me to control.
Some days that cup feels overflowing. The task is too large. Other days, like yesterday, it feels woefully small— as if somehow through my worry I could make everything right for everyone, everywhere.
But of course, I can’t. My worry gains nothing except my own mental exhaustion and emotional bankruptcy.
After our walk, I felt lighter. This morning, I recognize that the spark of my joy has been fanned.
I can only control the things God has given me to control… praise the Lord! Any more than that which is already in my lap would truthfully be too great a burden to bear!