"Let it Go, Let it Go..."

I am convinced that indecision is a disease. It's a disease of the mind and heart... at least it is for me. I often struggle over weighing the pros and cons of a situation so relentlessly that I eventually just default into non-action out of sheer exhaustion. I don't know how I got to be this way. Maybe it has always been a quirk of my personality, but I hate it. Oh, how I envy those individuals who can make a decision and, BOOM, move forward acting on it without ever looking back!

I wish I could say that it's only the really big, weighty decisions where I have trouble making up my mind, but that's not the truth. My current dilemma is over whether or not to get rid of the two twin beds in our only guest bedroom and replace them with two sets of bunks. This probably wouldn't send most of you into a tailspin, but for someone like me... it's a nagging little conundrum that's been bugging me for weeks. The twins have beautiful carved wood headboards. They're symmetrical and comfortable for adults as well as kids, but the bunks would provide sleeping for at least four in the same square footage. Would bunks make the room seem too claustrophobic? Would my grown kids be able to comfortably sleep on the lower beds? Decisions, decisions.... These are the things you contemplate when your extended family is large, but your sweet, second honeymoon casita is small.

There is no one more frustrated by my indecision than my husband, bless his heart. He has seen me through all manner of crises (I'm being facetious here) like picking paint colors, placing the couch in the living room, choosing which restaurant for lunch, and settling on what to do or where to go when we have a free day... blah, blah, blah. And if you guessed that he is one of those "make a decision and never look back" guys, you'd be totally spot on! Hence, a lot of needless drama goes on around here all because I just can't seem to make up my mind!!

Here's the funny thing. Once the decision is taken out of my hands for whatever reason... I'm good with it. Isn't THAT a hoot! Let me give you an example. On our anniversary a couple of years ago, we went to Fredericksburg for the day. We love to go antiquing and looking through the quaint little thrift shops there in the small towns (and, of course by "we," I mean me.) It was on that trip that we came across a dining room table that we just couldn't pass up. It was oak with a parquet top, and had two leaves that lifted out from underneath to expand the table from five feet to almost eight. Now mind you, in preparation for our downsizing, we had already given our daughter Sarah the big farmhouse table Tom had made me a few years before. We needed another table, preferably one that could morph to accommodate the family during visits, so this baby looked like just the ticket. And did I mention the price? Fifteen bucks! Yeps, you read that right. How could we NOT get it?!

After playing Tetris with the legs and leaves, we finally got all the parts squeezed into the back of the van and headed home with our prize. The table worked great for a while, but when we realized that we'd have to occasionally use our dining room as an additional sleeping space for family as well, we had to rethink the whole thing. Out to the shed went the parquet table and in its place came two gateleg tables from IKEA! They were magic for the room. They could be expanded to seat 10-12 or be folded up and placed against the wall while taking up just a scant 10 inches of depth. We had found our solution... or so I thought.

One day, for no particular reason, I got to looking around the house at all the old antique-y style things we had and... well... the IKEA stuff just stuck out like a sore thumb. I went out to the shed and pondered the possibilities. Could I paint the oak? The old parquet just seemed to fit the style so much better than the modern looking gatelegs. If I just moved the china cabinet a smidge, the parquet could fit neatly against the wall with just enough room for an inflatable queen mattress. Yeah, that would work. Then I could move the gatelegs out to my shed for my craft work tables! You see this insanity.

I tell you, I schlepped that table back and forth from dining room to shed I don't know HOW many times trying to make up my mind. Tom finally called it. We're keeping the IKEA! O.k. Great! That's decided... but not really. It wasn't until our pastor mentioned that there was a family who needed a table after their recent move to a new apartment. NOW, now I knew I could give it away and never look back. We took her out, set her up on the deck, and sent the requested pics and measurements, but unfortunately, the table wasn't going to work for their space. Drat. Back to square one.

I think God must have been amused by my antics... or maybe He just took pity on me, because before we moved the table back to the shed for the umpteenth time, we had a terrific rain storm. We got the table covered with a tarp in time, but the next morning, when we took the tarp off, all the parquet had peeled up like potato chips over the whole top. The table was ruined. Tom hated to tell me the news. But actually, it was a relief. Truly. I could finally let it go. I wasn't even that upset. What does that say about me?! I agonized, and pondered, and toted, and moved, and deliberated over that fifteen dollar table forever... and for what?

In that moment I had an epiphany.

Indecision is a joy stealer. I need to let things go.

For small matters like deciding on furniture or paint colors, holding on and holding out until you find the right one is totally rational. Some might say it's even prudent, wise. However, when the idea of letting something go moves from the realm of the tangible to the IN-tangible, we can start to have BIG problems.

I need to be able to let other things go as well. Hard feelings. Regret. Grudges. Guilt. These things are even harder to let go of than fifteen dollar oak parquet dining tables. I said that indecision is a joy stealer. That's true, but inability to let go of harmful feelings can steal even more. Along with our joy, it can take our health, our relationships, our faith. We have to guard against it with every fiber of our being. How do we do that? We can't just let it go... we have to be willing to give it to someone else.

When my kids were much younger, we had a little clown ministry at our church called the Joy Brigade. The kids used to visit nursing homes and homeless shelters doing Bible-based skits, spreading joy, sharing the love of Jesus with others. One of the skits we put on was a rendition of Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan. In the allegory, the main character, Christian, is trying to make his way to the Celestial City (heaven) as he encounters various individuals and trials that either help or hinder his progress. All the while, he is carrying a pack on his back that has actually become a part of him. His sins (rocks) weigh him down and impede his advance. The way is difficult and made even moreso by the heavy burden he is carrying. He doesn't want to let it go. He can't let it go, that is, until he comes to the foot of the cross. Here his burden drops freely from his back and goes tumbling down into the abyss of a grave, never to be seen again.

This is how we let things go. We give them away... all the hurt, the ugly, the despicable, the unimaginable. We hand over the deep, dark places of our hearts and minds to the One, the only One who can send then careening down into a grave so deep, they will never come back. Only Jesus can do that. Only He can save us from ourselves... from the sins we so desperately need forgiving. The Bible tells us that He casts our sins into the depths of the sea, and as far as the East is from the West, so far has He removed our transgressions from us. That, my friends, is the best news of all.

When we hold on too stubbornly to past mistakes, to guilt or regret, to our darkest moments, to wrongs committed against us... and revisit them, we do so to our detriment. We don't have the power or the cure to fix all that would keep us from looking back and punishing ourselves or others over and over. Our joy is stolen with every "rock" we hoard. There is only one solution... only one fix. We must let it go. Let it go to the One who turns darkness into light. Let it go to the One who makes all things new and right again. Let it go to the One who has the power and the cure to heal what ails us. Let it go.

... and never look back.