The Summer of Surrender

Enjoy this devotional from FlourishWriters student Sky Sanchez-Fischer

There I was, a strange-shaped bird collecting strands of sundries from the hollow of my van, dipping in and out with one, two, three bags lining and nesting into the v of my arms; I pile it all on. 

Angry pink spreads underneath the plastic of burrowing bags while I quickly contemplate and flit away the idea of making a second trip for the rest. This dance of stretch and gather, back in for more, a stack of borrowed paperbacks, the this and that’s of a typical Tuesday night errand run. 

The muted moon droops over the towering redwoods, my only witnesses, as I sag under the weight of it all. Yard lanterns light my steps, lucid breadcrumbs to my nest. I need a soft landing, someplace to set it all down. 

After a wrestle with the keys, I push my way into the house. Satisfaction spills across my lips. I did it, the whole load in one swoop.

Once inside, adrenals stretched beyond capacity; reality perched its shock of color front and center. Naturally, we need soap, Q-tips, hole-less socks, and detergent. But then the pretty things I could not say no to, good-for-me-things I said yes to when I should have declined, pushing my body and soul through dark hours of activity, desperate to get it all done. 

Seeing my mess in full display—brimming bags and a mountain of books to add to my toppling stacks—my wild mind searched for an escape, my stomach in tangles. I had a visceral calculation. 

Why did I add all of this to my already tight margins? Behold, my stuff inhabited more than just shelves and cabinets; it seized my soul space. 

The cost was high. My gleaning, a net I could not slip off. As I struggled to get free, I became more entangled; each thing an obligation twisted tighter around my neck, a self-inflicted noose. 

I craved simple, tidy, and unfettered. Instead, I was cluttered and captive; carrying too much and hidden under all of it. And it was far past time to put it all down and purge. 

Truthfully, I felt accomplished, necessary, in my busyness. But I was consumed and drained from trying to keep up. 

I wish that night of errands had unpacked the truth and promises of a surrendered life for me, but it took time and more of everything before I began to unravel the lies teemed with do, have, and be more. 

None of this stuff, none of this doing, made me. 

I was born to be enough as is. Carrying all maybe these things did not measure my worth. 

Crying out, digging deep into my excess, I gathered up, opened my hands, and began to let go: things, thoughts, old hurts, and regrets plucked up and yielded little by little. Snail-pace at times but committed, I kept bending, and as I leaned into the Lord, he sang songs of cheer over me. 

I was finally uncovering the promises of rest and purpose in a life clutched close to Him, and when I overdid it or picked up the heft again, as I do, I always found His arms wide and waiting.

What I needed was never in Target, never about taking on more, never found in my performance. I choose what gets to stay and how I spend myself, make space for the things that make my soul sail, and make room to rest. 

The late-night errands are obsolete. Setting stuff down, I fold into the release of it all, empty and full, closer to my Provider, not just my provisions. When my walk is wobbly, I wait and recenter. Bit by bit, I untie lies, and my wings gather strength for the flight ahead. 

Friend, if you feel trapped by a try-too-hard life and struggle to find your footing, please be encouraged: you exist for more than tending to things that no longer serve you. 

Grant yourself the space to hear your needs and allow the Lord’s truth to lift you. Soaring starts with surrender; let go of the weight that keeps you caged and lean into the One who gives you the vast view and the wings to rise to it.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28 NIV)

Dear Heavenly Father, 

I pray Your truth covers and keeps Your precious daughter. May she see and know her value exists in You. Please help her to see she does not need to do more to be more; let rest settle deep in her spirit. Show her how worthy she is: her peace and purpose reside in You alone and she does not need to work for her rest. Let her drop the weight that does not belong to her and replace it with a soft place to lay her weariness. Thank You for Your constant keeping. Let it all be so, in Jesus’ precious name, Amen.

Sky is a constantly curious poet and writer, and is completely undone by her Father’s care and keeping. You can find her constantly trying to keep up with her four especially entertaining and creative children, whose ages span nearly two decades. She also loves reading; carving space for words, rest and ice cream; reruns of Murder, She Wrote; home educating; requesting delicious things to eat from her handsome and handy chef husband; and planning their next getaway to the water or woods, preferably in an RV.

You can find her encouraging storytelling mothers on IG @mothershewrites.