CTRL is my favorite computer key.   It makes words mean; it makes them dance.  It can move and duplicate and make whole sections disappear.   It is part of the mystery which unlocks the door to the inner workings of one’s computer.    It has unmatched power.   What’s tricky, though, is when I assign such great importance not to CTRL but to control.   Because that is a VERY different button.

If I were to define myself, as I have done time and again, I would not include “control freak.”   Not at all.  Evidence to support that conclusion includes facts such as totally forgetting this very evening to go to a dinner at a friend’s house to which I really wanted us to go. *  Clearly, THAT person can’t be a control freak, right?  Closer inspection would indicate “ummm….yeah.”  Apparently she can.

Last night, I was listening to a video in which a woman was talking about how all our ideas about control are really just illusions.   How even when we THINK we have control, we don’t.  And I thought, I never try to control situations.   Not at all applicable.  Except when Helicopter wants to be the Once-ler for Dr. Seuss Day instead of Ted Wiggins.     Except when I think an event might not go perfectly unless choreographed to the moment by me.  Except when the entire family is moving very slowly and we are likely going to be very late.  Except when….  My “Except When” list was getting really long.    I realized not only was I trying to control things, but, when I feel them slipping away, I dig in my talons.

So what? I thought.  Ted Wiggins is a MUCH better character.  He speaks for the trees.   He wears a helmet and rides a cool unicycle-thing.  Clearly, he is a superior choice. But then I thought about how happy and cute Helicopter was as the Once-ler once I had relented.   (I have no photographic evidence.  I am a photo fail mom.  It just is.)  Maybe I would have missed that happy guy if I had insisted or manipulated him into being Ted.  And I thought about Star Wars, as one always should.   I thought about Princess Leia telling Governor Tarkin, “The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers. ”  I thought about what other beauty I had missed because I wouldn’t loosen my hold.  What other loveliness I had missed because I was so busy jamming things into the shapes I thought they should be.

And, quite frankly, I don’t know that I am qualified to be in control.  Because really the person you want in control is the one who knows what the hell is happening.   You want the trained pilot to be at the helm.   The one who has done it hundreds of times and the one who knows where we are going.   Which, in most of the situations I find myself, is certainly not me.  I am more that someone who just got lost on the way to the bathroom and ended up in the cockpit. Because, unlike when one builds with Legos, there aren’t usually instructions.  There isn’t even a picture on the box to see what you get at the end.  

Maybe I should let the one who can see the whole picture take over.  

And maybe I need remind myself, when things aren’t going the way that I pictured, that it’s OK.   That it is fine if the kids take more than a minute to decide what they want to eat even though there are people waiting.   That super intense kids probably make the most interesting adults.   If I COULD see the whole picture, I would likely be surprised by the beautiful things that are being created.  Beautiful moments.   Strong foundations.   

And if I really believe there is enough grace for all of us, maybe I will let some leak into these situations.   Let grace extend even to those times when letting it go means it doesn’t turn out Pinterest perfect.   (Knowing me, I wouldn’t have a picture anyway.)  Letting just fine be just fine indeed.

There are certainly things in each situation that I can be sure are good choices.  Like teaching my kids to be kind.  Like loving.  Like keeping both hands on the wheel of the car.  But maybe on EVERY DETAIL I could ease up a bit.  Because just look at Governor Tarkin.   One assumes that if he had know the Death Star was really just one shot away from total implosion, he would have made better choices.   Evacuated.  Worn looser collars just for fun.   

So, the question is: do you think there are things to which you holding on too tightly?  To people?   Because I think even now we have to be intentional about letting trust trickle in.   Letting go and letting beauty come.  Do you think that’s true for you too?  If so, why don’t you join me on this crazy thing.  Let’s see what can be.

I adore you!

*Author’s note: I don’t want to kill anyone’s hope for a brighter future, but my iPad repeatedly switched “to which” to “yo which”.  What does THAT say about our grammatical future?