🍽️ Surrender: Releasing Control
Prayers for broken dishes, new school years, and best-laid plans
When we placed the sage, eggplant, and floral mix-and-match stoneware set on our Target wedding registry sixteen years ago, it felt so fancy, so grown-up.
Through four moves, we packed and unpacked those dishes, likely spending more on packing tape and bubble wrap than the original cost of the set. Four kids ate from the cereal bowls — apple sauce and soup and mashed potatoes — but through the years, only one remains in shape.
At one sleep-deprived time of my life, we were raising four kids who were five and under. We lived in a small town four hours away from our closest family. On Thursdays, a nonprofit resale store called Bibles for Missions (really) was open in the evening, and when my husband was home from work, I’d escape to the musty store to hunt for thrifted treasure and restore what was left of my sanity.
I almost cried when I saw it—a glimmering, giant set of the same stoneware dinnerware we had. We only had a few plates and bowls, but there, sitting in three cardboard boxes were an abundance of matching dinner plates, salad plates, pasta bowls, cereal bowls, and mugs.
We had a set of six dinner plates, four cereal bowls, and a couple of mugs at home.
I had hit the jackpot.
The tiny green stickers on the boxes still felt expensive, but after much deliberation, I handed over the cash and loaded heavy box after heavy box into the back of our blue minivan, the one we got used to when I was pregnant and had two preschoolers in tow.
We sold the minivan and got rid of those dishes this week.
And those preschoolers? Well, this week they started middle school.
Chipped plates and cracked bowls sat stacked in our haphazard cupboards, placed there by competitive brothers racing to finish their chores with a speed that would make The Flash envious.
Our historic home has a cabinet hutch with glass doors and a plate rack that displayed every broken bowl and fractured plate. I sat at our kitchen island checking off back-to-school supply lists, but all I could see were the chips and cracks of life staring back at me. I grabbed my laptop and started researching very mindful, very demure off-white dinnerware.
I became a woman obsessed. I looked at Good Housekeeping and Wirecutter, gobbling up ratings and reviews. I compared prices and even solicited help on Instagram.
After much deliberation (and borderline obsession) I chose ones with the shapes and silhouettes I wanted (and the drool-worthy pasta bowls of my dreams). I bought some that were stain—and scratch-resistant but still pretty. I ordered a set of sixteen (Good Housekeeping called it Best Value!)while my husband dropped that blue minivan off at the mechanic.
We hadn’t driven it for a while—it’s been sitting in our alley driveway, staring at us, waiting to be fixed and driven again. Our neighbors have a toddler and a baby and needed more space for car seats and suitcases.
The van in which my little kids with chubby cheeks and skinned knees watched Cars from their five-point harnesses now sits in their driveway, two houses down. They’re the third family to buckle in those seats and adjust the rearview mirror.
My new dishes are clean and nicely stacked in my symmetrical cupboards. The old ones are in the boxes now, waiting to serve a third family.
Last week in Year of Breath, we explored change. The week before that? Letting go.
I don’t know why fixing the dish situation became my priority. I had work deadlines and volunteer commitments. School supplies needed purchasing; the garden needed tending.
I don’t know why, but I do have a hunch: I couldn’t control summer turning to fall or preschoolers turning into middle schoolers. But I could control the plates.
(From “A Prayer for the First Day of School” on pages 46-47 of To Light Their Way.)
Control or Surrender?
It’s easy to grasp for control amid life’s inevitable changes. We try to manage the small things—like replacing chipped dishes or selling an old van—when the bigger shifts feel too overwhelming.
It’s natural to seek out these little victories, to tidy up the corners of our lives when the center feels uncertain.
Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” This verse invites us to cease striving and rest in the promise that the Spirit hovers over all the changes we face.
The dishes, the minivan, the back-to-school lists—they’re all part of the mosaic of our lives—bits and pieces that may seem insignificant but are part of the larger picture.
As you navigate your seasons of transition—whether it’s preparing a child for a new school year, adjusting to an empty nest, or simply trying to find peace in a cluttered kitchen—may you find comfort in knowing that God is with you in every moment.
Jesus sees the cracks and chips, the places where life has worn you down, and holds all of it, and all of you, with tender care.
Borrow this Prayer
From my newest book Every Season Sacred: Reflections, Prayers, and Invitations to Nourish Your Soul and Nurture Your Family throughout the Year.
God, we know You are trustworthy,
But so often we forget.
Remind us that our family
Belongs to You and You alone.
When the day is done
And the sun begins its slumber,
And we return from our separate adventures,
Will You bring us back home?
Cover our fears
With the blanket of Your love.
Loosen our controlling grip
With Your gentle embrace.
Amen.
August
It’s the end of the month, and it feels entirely too late to share (if only I wasn’t obsessing about DISHES!), but here’s the August Every Season Sacred reading plan.
I’ll be better at sharing the September reading plan next week (along with some kids are back in school, so let’s celebrate GIVEAWAYS1!!!).
(Fall is kind of a perfect time to start the weekly readings!)
This Week
In our fast-paced lives, we often grasp the illusion of control.
But what if we could learn to release that grip and trust in the One who holds all things together?
This week in Year of Breath: We explore the theme of relinquishing control.
We acknowledge our desire to manage every detail and explore what it might look like to lean into:
cracked-but-still-there faith
crumbling-but-still-hopeful trust
and, ultimately, imperfect but honest divine surrender.
This edition will help you pause, breathe, and refocus on the sacred practice of releasing your burdens into God’s hands through a curated selection of:
breath prayers
a guiding scripture
thoughtful reflection prompts
private weekly playlist
designed breath prayer phone wallpaper/lock screen
a benediction as you go.
Join us as we journey together, learning to let God be God.
Breath Prayer
In a world that often feels too fast, heavy, or uncertain, breath prayers are a simple and profound way to center ourselves and reconnect with the sacred in the everyday moments.
The idea is simple: as you inhale, you focus on one phrase, and as you exhale, you release another. These prayers can be prayed anytime, anywhere, offering a moment of peace and grounding.
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