Letting God Navigate

It's hard. Letting God navigate.

You want so hard to be in control, to fix everything, to make everything perfect.

It's like you don't even know the truth: nobody is perfect.

It's been one of those things I've been learning this semester. Nobody's perfect. I'm not perfect. Things will happen. I'll want to give up. People will try to make me feel better. I will not listen to them. God will help me even when I don't feel like being helped.

Repeat.

And repeat, and repeat, and repeat.

These days, God has plenty of reasons to not be happy with me. For one thing, I haven't been going to church faithfully, and even though I'm not the person to hang my faith on weekly church amen, I do enjoy going to church.

Life has just been so hectic, so crazy that my sleeping schedule has been off and come Saturday night, I'm trying to justify getting up early to do work instead of going to church.

Yeah, it's been that bad.

The last several months have been an experience for me. The most interesting experience I've ever had, actually. Let's me know that you're never too old to be surprised.

While trying to stay focused on schoolwork, I dealt with major self issues while also worrying, lamenting, praying, dealing with big issues back home - with family and friends.

It's been hard - being here and not there. It's been hard - not being the fixer. It's been hard - just letting my prayer and thoughts be enough.

But it's what I had to do, so I did it. My family insisted. Mom and sister checking in on me, making sure I'm OK. My brother calling and texting with his jokes and telling me not to worry and keep chillin' with my books. My girlfriends telling me that I already have this degree, just keep moving forward to reach it. Even in the midst of their own angst and problems, they looked out for me.

And so did God. And so is God.

At each and every breaking point, he has been there, letting me know that I'll be OK. That I am OK.

He has never left my side even when I left my side.

Through the panic attacks, he's there, calming me, getting me back to the computer to write and work on projects.

Through the tears, he's there to have me turn on a song that makes me smile and revs up my heart and mind.

Through the angst, he's there to say, "Shonell, stop, OK? You got this. Can't you see that?"

And just when I think I can't see it, there comes a slither of light.

And I know that at some point, some point, I will be bathed in that light.

And that's enough to make me move to the side, give God the wheel, and ride this semester out to its positive, brilliantly lit conclusion.