Life, Rearranged

Life, Rearranged

1920 1280 Sarah Rennicke

I will never know how life arranges itself. I can give up attempting to rope up its wildness, give up trying to run my mind through the unknowns to grab hold of the smallest tangible reality I can stretch to make sense. I open one door; God blows me through another. I step one way; He sets me somewhere else. It’s a constant chess match I’m not meant to win. I’m not even supposed to rearrange the pieces.

The more I strain my brain to take control of the uncontrollable, I wrack my heart and tie it up in greater knots than sailors can structure. Where has this crazy, audacious spirit come from? Certainly not the timid girl who slid her feet across tiles to make sure I marked the right way. But when my heart is shoved into upheaval and I am swimming in the deepest of ends, survival instinct says fight instead of the Spirit that says sink. Sink into the mysterious. Into the One who is invisible. Into the realization that my life, my heart, look nothing like I once had imagined. And to open wide my arms and see how I can float once I find the source that buoys me in this abyss.

Losing my own understanding slunk like a thief inside me and stole away with my rational. It will never be missed. I’ve seen how terribly wrong I’ve gotten this whole guessing of my story, the twists and turns that sprung and I began to deduct where they went. I must be so amusing to the spectators of Heaven, who see me stumble over my own stubbornness.

In the balance of freefall, just before the winds of surrender sweep through, my spirit thrashes against giving up wanting to know how the patterns of my days align. But when I come to the end of myself and collapse against the strain, I am set free.

I’ll keep holding on by letting go. My grasp was cutting off the blood flow, too tight, slowly and unknowingly killing me. The One who knit me together designed me for life, unexpected and full like sudden rain showers.

Let my heart break on its own accord. Let the mystery that is this tremulous life throb in prayer, bloom to faith. May I never wash away the wonder from my pores, push the pride in front of prostrated soul. All I have is the light illuminating my footsteps, glow that grows my world into all I cannot fathom. I breathe, for once relaxing in losing control and leaving space inside to still.

Sarah Rennicke

Sarah Rennicke loves words. She also loves people. And she loves weaving them together in honest and vulnerable ways. She loves slowing down and listening to the heartbeats of this world, exploring the hidden hopes and deepest fears tucked away in souls. She believes that God created imagination to truly see His handiwork, and that we are all desiring to be seen, known, and loved.

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