Staying Put, Allowing, Wringing My Hands
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree and Rising.
I have never been one to watch a friend drown. Pardon the analogy. This metaphor is not an easy one, given how I was buried alive in a watery, muddy grave as a small child, but drowning is how I see this situation.
I have always, even to the point of being pulled under myself, reached out to help a drowning man, whether or not he called for my help or even wanted it.
But this is a different season, and I am “allowing miracles.” That means not stepping in to save the day but rather, just staying put and considering what the Universe puts out there as a potential miracle, even if it seems quite bad at the moment.
There were plenty of times in the past when I raced to someone’s rescue, only to discover later that my part in changing their future also changed our friendship and didn’t force them to learn and grow as they could have. What seemed terrible at the time needed to happen for all the right things to line up. The true miracle of the moment was how things would turn around once the person put some effort into their future instead of relying on a crutch or a last-minute rescue, mainly because there were other times to come where there would be no crutch and not rescue.
It’s hard to watch a friend tossed about by threatening waters but by staying put and coolly observing, I’m confident that the Universe knows what it’s doing. My friend will either sink or swim or grab some of the debris from the latest shipwreck and build a boat.
Or maybe the waters will wash my friend back to me, lifeless and limp and too late. That’s why this is so hard, why I wring my hands.
A boat would be nice. A possibility. A miracle. Or walking on water.
But whatever happens will be a miracle because of the new place we’ll reach in our friendship. And so, I’m going to allow whatever is to happen to happen and trust that it’s part of the Grand Plan.