I believe in being proactive.  I believe in momentum.  I believe in checking things off “to do” lists.  I believe in making things happen through perseverance and grit.  I believe in the power of impatience.  I believe that if opportunity doesn’t knock, you should just build more doors.  I believe in action.  And fast-paced environments.  And moving forward.

But just because you believe in something doesn’t mean it’s right.  So this year, I’m choosing a different speed.  This year, I’m choosing to pause.

Here is one of my bigger flaws, and one that led to this change in speed:  I like to be in control.

See, when your life’s plot line changes without your permission, and your fairy tale burns down in flames, you suddenly get the overwhelming feeling of being powerless, and out of control.  If I were a bit more laid-back, I might have handled this life change differently.  But I am not.  I am me.  And I handled it by trying to take control back.  I thought, “Well, if I can’t control my path, I can at least control everything else.”

It’s a coping mechanism:  to attempt to control what I believed to be in my realm of control.  Even when things were obviously not meant to be, I’ve attempted to prove that through my strong will and perseverance, I could still force things to happen.

Spoiler Alert:  Force and control are not good verbs for humans.

I’ve experienced this multiple times since last April.  Through purchases.  Through relationships.  Through career choices.  You know… the minor things in life (*insert your own sarcastic tone here*).

But there is a thin line where perseverance fades into stubbornness.  When head-strong turns into bull-headed.

And although I’m a fast learner, this area seems to be one in which I’m not particularly astute.  Because I continue to be taught the same lesson over and over and over again about control.  And  I didn’t learn my lesson each of the last times I tried to force something into motion.

So I think God spends a lot of His time on me just…laughing.

He watches me, and says some King James version of, “Well, Katie, just go ahead with your bad self.  Go ahead and take the reins on things you don’t even know how to drive.  Good luck.  I’ll be here at the end of that free fall you’ve gotten yourself into again.  Yes, I know you didn’t check to see if the parachute would work.  Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.  When you decide to finally look back and check it…”

My need to be in control is like a brand new bungee cord – those snappy rubbery ones that can take out an eye or a tooth.  And every time I try to force things to happen, so I can take leaps and bounds forward, it keeps yanking me back into my very real reality.

Each time I come to my painfully slow recognition that maybe my plans aren’t working out, yet again, God just chuckles, with a knowing, “How’s that working for ya?”

And finally, after I’ve pushed against the wall until I’ve exhausted myself, He does what He does best:  He lays out a better plan.

I have a very limited number of people I am close enough to allow to comment on my decisions and choices.  And most of them can see my odd decisions happening from a mile away.  They will gently point out my stubborn nature – because they don’t want to enrage the bull.  And I’ll listen.  Probably not heed their advice.  But I will listen.  And go back to my plan, where I can be in control.

You would think that of all people, I would have learned the lack of control we truly have in life.  You would think that, at the very least, I would have learned this one crucial life lesson.  That I would not have to learn it repeatedly, like that driving test I struggled with so many times.  Certainly I cannot be that stubborn.  I mean, I even wrote a blog post about it here.

But here I am, all over again, learning that my plans are not always the best plans.  Learning that although I can prepare and take steps and take action and lay it all out like a blueprint, I cannot control the ground on which my foundation will be built.

I can plan and plan away at some vision I have set before myself.  But in the end, I have to accept that the path and vision I have set in front of me are mine, and mine alone.  It may not, in fact, be God’s plan at all.  And when my plan and God’s plan do not align, there is no use fighting the inevitable.  God’s plan will always trump my own.  Because He controls the ground on which my foundation is built.  Not me.

Until I accept that – and until YOU accept that, if you’re stubborn and hard-headed like me, – I will feel controlled by my needless drive to be in control.  I will be exhausted from steering reins on a vehicle I don’t even know how to drive.  And I will be wasting precious time and energy on the parts that are not mine to control.

It’s been several years since I participated in the One Word phenomenon.  The idea is to take a single word, and use it as your “theme” or driving force for the year.  Years ago, during a time when I spent more time working than living and loving Chris,  I chose the word balance.  And unlike all the resolutions I’d made in years past, I actually stuck with it.  And it did actually change my life for the better.

So this year, I felt the need to bring it back.  My action-oriented nature in the months after Chris passed was getting a bit too hectic.  And I could feel the need to slow down, take things in, feel the feels I may have been avoiding.  So, I chose to make this “The Year of the Pause”.  This year, rather than jumping into new decisions, I would just…pause.  Sit in the moments.  Choose wait time over action.  Choose patience over pushing.  And let things play out as God intended them to.

Be still, and know that I am God. – Psalm 46:10

A wonderful friend sent me this sweet gift as a reminder.

It’s a tough lesson, honestly.  It’s actually taking more perseverance to slow down my momentum and pause than it has to actually take action.  Hence why I’ve just been reminded of it, yet again.

But it’s a lesson I have to learn.  It’s a state I have to accept.  It’s a coping mechanism I must let go of, eventually.

I cannot control my path.  I cannot control the foundation on which my feet move forward each day.  I can only control me.  And so, I will control my pause…