Control

Control

I clench my clunky hands.
They strain to hold all the things in my life, the things I need to control. Anxiously. Even desperately now.

I cannot hold magnesium, or salt, or sand and yet i try as the bits and pieces slip through my fingers onto the floor of life. I look down helplessly at the mess I've made. And as the puddles flatten to the ground I am weighed down by the thoughts, the thoughts of all that is out of my control.

There is nothing I can do. Thats the worst part. I am helpless here. this clean white floor extends to the tall walls surrounding me and I am alone.

I kneel down grasping at the fluid piles and suddenly am aware of a hand gracing my back.

Dillusional...no...this hand is authentic.

Dillusional...yes...I have been. The piles remain on the floor ungathered, but the realization strikes, "They're not my piles. They never were." I was grasping and seeking to control things that were and are beyond me.

Some things our hands aren't made to hold. But the Divine, He is not so limited and He beckons me to trust.