Smack Dab In the Middle

I don't really on consider myself a "control freak." I pretty much allow the people I work and worship with to be themselves. I can't really change the way family members relate and respond to each other.

And yet, I like to think that I'm "in control;" that I have some sort of say-so in my life. That changed a few days ago; not only was I NOT in control, but I had to turn my life over to others.

Country music artist Carrie Underwood sings it so well on her Some Hearts album.

She didn't even have time to cry
She was sooo scared
She threw her hands up in the air
Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
Cause I can't do this all on my own
I'm letting go...
Jesus take the wheel.

From the moment my car started to fishtail, I knew I was not in control.

When the car began to roll and the sound of twisting metal pounding the roadway filled my ears, I knew I was not in control.

Sitting in the bone chilling cold, waiting for help to arrive, I knew I was not in control.

In a matter of seconds, control of my life had shifted to others:

The five "angels" -- young men who stopped to be with me until EMTs arrived.

The paramedics who made sure I was stable until I reached the hospital.

The emergency room staff, who worked efficiently but with sensitivity to my trauma.

The ER doctor who made it a point to comfort my family and point out another medical concern not related to the accident.

My family who has waited on me hand and foot while enduring my complaints about slow healing injuries.

I pride myself at being a low maintenance, self-sufficient person. Losing control of your everyday life is a humbling experience. It’s normal to wonder where is God in all of this. Maybe the operative word is "pride". . . Or perhaps "self-sufficiency."

I recently read about Frank Silecchia, one of volunteers searching the wreckage of the World Trade Center for survivors. This particular morning he hoped would be different; past days had yielded forty-seven victims, none of them alive.

However he would stumble upon a symbol destined to be seared into America's memory--a twenty-foot tall steel-beam cross. The collapse of Tower One on Building Six merged to gigantic beams. When one crashed into the another, the two girders bonded into one, forged by fire. Other crosses rested randomly at the base of large one; different sizes, different angles, but all crosses.


As a stunned America struggled with "Where is God in all of this?," the beams emerged from the rubble to say "I am right here in the middle of it all."

Could God have prevented 911 from occurring? Absolutely! But since World War, Americans have been pretty cocky and believe we are in control of our own destiny.

Could God have kept my car from rolling? Absolutely! But I am re-learning the lesson of dependency on Him and the people He has placed in my life.

As I stumble through the rubble of mistakes and misfortunes in my life, I am reminded that He is smack-dab in the middle of who I am, what I am, and where I am going.

Admitting I'm not in control is not such a scary thing after all.