February 16, 2000

Note: Linda’s dad died peacefully in her home July 6, 1999. Her mother was in serious physical
decline, so Linda was grieving the loss of her dear father and the eventual demise of her loving
mother. There were many demands on her time and limited energy (clients, church responsibilities,
friends, family, etc. Her journaling reflects some of the sadness of this period of her life.)

Good Morning, Lord, Lying here I’m thinking about surrender. That’s what my life is about now.
What do I need to let go of right now. Please, Lord, help me to welcome surrender.
I want to surrender fully to the lessons for me here—the anti-control,
anti-have-my-way opportunities of this period. I want to learn the lesson of doing
what’s closest with my whole heart.
Rejoicing in this school where you, my great Teacher, place me.

Lord Jesus, I choose to surrender everything to you–my life and the way I want to live it;
my strength, my health, my reputation, all that makes me—me. I surrender my life as it has been
and as I invision it to be. I surrender my control and my desires.
I choose to surender all these things and I know that unless You do it in me,
all these thoughts are meaningless words.
My will is strong and seizes control at any unguarded moment. I can’t be the guard of my
heart or the ruler of it because I change by the moment.

Philippians. 2, “But even if I am being poured out as a libation over the sacrifice and the offering
of your faith, I am glad and rejoice with all of you. . .” Lord, I long for and choose a
poured-out life. And today I say to you that I choose to be poured out as You choose.
My dream of that pouring I give to You to be worked out or given up as You choose.
I am not in charge here now. You, Lord Jesus, are in charge. May it be so,
in Your power, through this whole day.

(Two days later) Forgive me, Jesus, I talked about surrender but I didn’t do it I didn’t have this
time with You.. Thank you—at 4:30 when I woke up today I knew I needed to
get up and bring this uncomfortable inner feeling to You. Somewhere in the day yesterday
I moved to auto pilot—away from constant dependence on You. When I do that melancholy
floats down (or up) and covers me like a cloak and I fold up.

I need SPRING . YOU are spring—new life, new growth, newness bursting forth. You
are Spring—and today my heart is in winter. Why does my surrender keep floating away?
Lord, it is Your gift. I can’t manufacture it. I can’t produce it. Jesus, I choose to surrender
to what is, to find thedepth here, the goodness of being emptied, of service.

I bring this heaviness to You, this sorrow which I can’t even name. I bring the whole
package of me—known and unknown (to me), but not to You, who knows all and
who loves me. I choose the struggle today. I choose openness, transperancy.
I choose surrender—which I can’t do You will make happen what needs to be today.

Thank you, Lord Jesus. It occurs to me that maybe all this is what being “poor in
spirit” means. If so, I thank you for it. Lord Jesus, take my life. Send me out today
beyond my recall, to the limits of my longing. This above all I ask.Amen.

February 16, 2000

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