"I surrender, I surrender..."

"...Constantly my mind and my heart is racing
All by myself trying to solve all these problems I'm facing
Looking to man trying to find hope
But man will never know the depth of my struggles
I was depending on myself
To give myself a hand
But when depending on myself
Fell time again
And that's why I'm standing here alone
With no one else
Lord, I realised that I can't fight these battles by myself

I surrender
I surrender
I surrender to you Lord
I surrender
I surrender
I surrender to you Lord
I surrender
I surrender
I surrender to you Lord
Coming out with both hands up
I surrender..."
-     R. Kelly  "I Surrender"

I was looking at the topical index on this blog and discovered that the subject of "surrender" is the one I have written the most about in the last few years.  It made me smile.  33 pieces that focus, in some way, on the subject of surrender.  The second was "adoption"....hmmm.  Not surprising...they go together.  They are so inherently linked that I can no longer imagine one, without the other.  Mary Baker Eddy says, in her article, "The New Birth":

"...The new birth is not the work of a moment.
It begins with moments,
and goes on with years;
moments of surrender to God,
of childlike trust and joyful adoption of good;
moments of self-abnegation, self-consecration,
heaven-born hope, and spiritual love."

As an adoptive mom I had to learn to surrender...surrender my romantic models of what it meant to be a mother, surrender control of the process, and over and over again...surrender my children to...well, not being "my children"...but children I share with everyone that loves them and cherishes their identity, worth, and promise....everyone that "mothers" them. 

Surrender and adoption characterize every little (and big) corner of my life.  My family, my work, my home, my calling, my prayers, my friendships, my place in the world...everything. 

And yet, as often as I have written about surrender, I have never told the story about how I learned one of my first big lessons in surrendering control, yielding my "right" to have a hand in things that are not mine to direct, and letting go of my plans for what being "right" needed to look, feel, and sound like...even if it's just in my own "head."

I hope you'll bear with me, but it starts with the first time I had a full body massage.  I had completed work with a new client, and in the envelope with her payment, was a note in which she extended a generous invitation.  She asked that I please accept the gift of her professional services...an aromatherapy massage.

At first blush (and I really mean blush) I hesistated for a number of cultural reasons...but only briefly.  She had become a loved member of my community circle through our work together and was offering a gift from her heart and her life...I could only accept her gift in the way it was intended...and I did.   But then my real hesitation started to scream...I didn't want to undress and be touched by anyone...much less a new friend I had begun a professional relationship with!  But over and over again I couldn't help but remembered the sincerity of her offer and her use of the word "gift."  And so I put my extreme modesty aside and called to set up an appointment for as far out on the calendar as I could without making my avoidance issues obvious.  But each day, that appointment drew closer and closer, until her name was staring up from the pages of my calendar and I couldn't cancel it gracefully.

I arrived at her studio...then housed in a lovely old vicotrian mansion near my home...one cold, gray late November afternoon. I was a shivering, teeth-chattering nervous wreck.  I was about to get naked with a peer.  This was a very new experience for me.  I was not at ease with my body.  I was not comfortable with having my body seen, much less touched.  We were friends, but this was a bit more than I was ready to do for a friendship.  I almost had myself talked out of the massage and into a quick cup of hot chocolate...my treat of course...at our neighborhood coffeehouse, when she came into the waiting room and greeted me with a steaming mug of herbal tea, the perfume of lavender and eucalyptus oil trailing her every soft step. 

I found myself at ease in the glow of her gentle eyes and shy smile.  I could see that this was a stretch for her too.  I was not a "client" that had come to her for therapeutic services, I was a new friend she had courageously offered her gifts to.

Once in her small, but warmly lit and softly scented studio she showed me where I could hang my clothes and invited me to make myself comfortable on the massage table between crisp white sheets and warmed quilts. 

When she returned to the room I was again tense and nervous.  I had never been comfortable with being touched and this was going a bit far.  But I decided if I was going to do this...and there was no graceful way to back out at that point...I would be a very good massagee...I would anticipate when she needed resistance, cooperation, I would be chatty...like I was with my hairdresser...entertaining and curious about her life, her children, her dreams.  I would be the best client she ever had. 

Once she began, however I wasn't a bit comfortable.  I was feeling like a failure.  I wasn't getting it right and I knew it even though she never said a thing.  I would push back against the pressure of her hands on my shoulders, I would hold in my stomach when she had me turn on my back, I lifted my head when she attempted to softly roll my neck from side to side...and I talked and talked and talked. 

Finally, I said, "I am so sorry that I'm not a good client.  I just don't have much experience at this and I don't know what to do to help you."

She softly said, "nothing...you need to do nothing.  Just surrender to my hands.  I think this will be the hardest thing you have ever done, no? But, I can only do my job if you aren't trying to do my job too.  Shall we start over?" she asked.  I started to cry.  Silent tears ran down my temples and pooled in my ears.  She never mentioned them, just dried them with a soft towel and helped me learn how to surrender.

I learned that I could completely let the weight of my head fall in her hands and trust her to not twist it off my neck.  I learned that when you agree to let someone care for you, you must not try to take control or attempt to anticipate their next move so that you can work with them in providing what you assume will be helpful...resistance or cooperation.  I learned that it is important to just let...let your self...your self-determinism...go, and allow your life, your plans, your body be moved into place by Someone else.

It was one of the most instructive two hours of my spiritual life.  It was like a practicum in surrender...a lab on yielding.  I am still returning to that afternoon on a massage table...underneath cool sheets and a warm quilt...when I need to remember the posture of letting go, surrendering to God's care, Her plan, Her strategy for aligning the body of my life, my work, my family, my world, with Her intent.

Often when I am lying on the floor of my "office" praying, I am mentally and spiritually re-enacting that time when silencing the need to hear the sound of conversation to assure me that I am doing my part in a relationship, yielding my desire to be "helping" the real Doer, and surrendering to Her touch, Her moving of my heart...the body of my affections...and adopting the direction of Her intent...the greatest good...for me, and mine, and all, made all the difference.

I have included a link to R. Kelly's "I Surrender" it is so powerful.  I hope you will take the time to listen to it, perhaps even while you are reading this piece...

with love...and in surrender,
Kate