Thoughts on faith, life, and art.
4. Surprised by providence.
I lived in a constant state of danger mitigation. If something could possibly go wrong, I wouldn’t do it. If it could result in me getting hurt, I was out. If it were remotely unsafe, or there was any risk involved, no thank you. I avoided risk and danger at all costs. No adventures, no thrill-seeking, and no adrenaline rushes for me. No, sir. Put me inside playing the piano, or reading a book. Or put me outside pulling weeds, or cutting the grass in nice straight lines.
I liked things that felt safe, and where I felt like I had some semblance of control. It wasn’t just my circumstances and surroundings I wanted to control—I cared a great deal about what people thought of me, too. If I felt like someone had a wrong or bad view of me, this was something out of my control, and it made me feel very uneasy and unsafe. The reason for this desperate clamor for control? Being molested as a kid. Subconsciously, I believed it was up to me to protect myself, and what better way than control?
I was always going to have a bent toward control, though. On the enneagram, I’m a Type One—the Perfectionist. One particular description said, “Enneagram Type Ones like to do things correctly and to high standards, are sticklers for rules, and pay close attention to detail. They also avoid making mistakes.” Well, add childhood trauma to the mix, and all that gets ratcheted up by a million. Now, “rules” get associated with safety. “Doing things correctly” with not getting hurt. “Avoiding mistakes,” now meant avoiding more trauma.
With all that, you’d think that I would have understood what my cousin meant when he told me, “You’re not ready for a relationship, Daniel, you’re too controlling.” But I didn't understand. He’d said it so mater-of-factly, too. Like it was a simple fact, and not an opinion up for debate. I was so offended! I mean, I knew I had lots of flaws, but being controlling wasn’t one of them! See, when I thought of the word “controlling,” I’d envisioned something entirely different than what he’d meant.
I thought he was talking about the kind of guy who wouldn’t let his wife or girlfriend go out with her friends, or if he did, he’d check in on her every five minutes until she was so miserable, that she never went out again. I thought he meant the kind of guy who tells "his woman" how to dress, and has weird, rigid rules for how she is to behave in public. I knew I wasn’t perfect, but geez, man! I wasn’t a gaslighting, narcissistic, controlling creep either—that just wasn’t me.
Instead, what my cousin was trying to tell me, was that he was seeing a symptom of my childhood trauma (which neither of us were aware of at the time). He wasn’t seeing me control other people—he was seeing the weird, self-imposed, hyper-rigid set of rules that I was personally controlled by. All this was because I had internalized a lie that is common amongst those who have been molested. The lie was that I could have prevented what happened. And the fact that I hadn't been able to prevent it, meant I must have made some sort of mistake somewhere.
Fast forward ten years, and I had little by little, without even knowing it, been learning to let go of control of things in my life. I’d been slowly getting in the habit of branching out and trying new things, most recently the creative gathering where I’d met that cute girl named Andrea. Now, just a few weeks later, I found myself driving to another creative gathering that was an offshoot of that original meeting. This one was smaller, and geared toward musicians.
I almost didn’t go because I no longer identified as an active musician, but ultimately decided to go just to support my friends. I pulled up to that unknown house, walked in to a group of unknown people, and lo and behold, who do I see? Andrea! The cute girl I’d met just a few weeks back! What? A triple threat? She was a dancer, a painter, AND a musician—turns out she was a singer! Who was this girl? Actually, that question would come up a lot before the end of the night.
You know, it’s funny looking back at how obvious everything was, because in the moment it did not feel that way at all. The night Andrea and I had met, there was a magical spark, and we’d had a great time talking, but other than becoming “friends” on Facebook by the end of the night, I’d had no other interactions with her. In fact, I hadn’t even had time to think about her. But here she was, and I was surprised at myself for how excited I was to see her again.
As the night went on, and all of us got to know each other better, I kept finding myself wanting to get to know more and more about Andrea. Then, a providential thing happened that changed everything. There was a lull in conversation, and Andrea addressed the group. She informed us that she had a seizure disorder, and since she couldn’t drive, someone had dropped her off. She asked the group if anyone would be willing to take her home.
My hand shot up before she even finished asking. “I will, I will—I live the closest, I’ll do it,” I said! I don’t know why I said I lived the closest—I had no idea where she lived—it just came out of my mouth. No one challenged me, so that night, I became her chauffer. Actually, she ended up living on the opposite side of Dallas from me. But did I care? Not at all! If anything, it meant more quality time in the car together!
By the time we wrapped the night up, and began our trip home, I was struck with how easy it was talking to her. Conversation flowed seamlessly, and there wasn’t one bit of awkwardness—just two people perfectly enjoying each other’s company. Through the course of the conversation, we found out many of the commonalities that we had. Each time we’d discover a new thing we had in common, we'd say, “who are you!?” We must have asked that a hundred times that night. I kept glancing over at her sitting in the passenger seat next to me, and asking myself the very same question. Who WAS she?
It felt as though she’d always been there. There was just a rightness to it. And that really freaked me out. I kept praying as we talked, "Lord, who is this girl?" What was even happening in my life right now? Here I was minding my own business, just showing up at a thing, and now I had this magical creature sitting in the car next to me. It felt like life was catapulting forward, and I was freefalling into a new chapter of life whether I was ready or not. In the past, this type of feeling would have caused all my control mechanisms to go into overdrive. And to some extent, it did.
Starting with the fact that by the time Andrea and I actually left the gathering, it was getting really late. It seemed as though the entire highway was under construction and closed down to one lane–which I guess is common for that time of night. But what I hadn't expected, was that the entire drive back, we were surrounded by orange, blue, and white flashing strobe lights from all the hundreds of construction trucks. I didn’t know a lot about seizures, but I did know that strobe lights can trigger them. This made me very nervous. A seizure was not something I could control.
As we talked about her epilepsy, I also learned that lack of sleep can also be a trigger. Oh, man. Here we were at late o’clock at night, driving home surrounded by flashing lights. Great. I’d just met the girl of my dreams, and now she was going to die because of me. Dramatic much? Welcome to my inner thought life. My little inner danger-avoider, and risk mitigator was having an absolute cow. How could I have been so irresponsible? How could I have let the night get away from us like this?
But, here I was learning to trust the Lord. I wasn’t perfectly healed from my struggle with control. I wasn’t then, and I’m still not now. Every day is a new struggle, and a new battle to overcome. But, I realized two very important things happened in that moment. First, whether or not Andrea had a seizure and died in my car on the way home was completely out of my hands. I had no choice but to trust God with her. Second, and most important, I was confronted with a dramatic choice that I wasn’t expecting to have had to make. Was I willing to lose her?
I was really starting to like this girl. And I mean, REALLY liking her. But if I opened the door of my heart to her, that would also mean risking the pain of potentially losing her to a seizure one day. I had to decide then and there if this was something I was willing to go through or not. It was a monumental struggle. I knew just how devastated I’d been from that heart break in high school, and how long it had taken me to bounce back—and the stakes were infinitely higher in this situation.
First, this wasn’t just heartbreak we were talking about. It was the potential of death! Second, the fact there just might be a girl out there for me after all, only to potentially lose her in such a horrible way—I wasn't sure that was something I could handle! In between all the comments and conversation, these were the thoughts that were rattling around in my head like a bunch of dried beans in an old tin can. These were all things way outside of my control, and I had to decide—was I going to trust God, or not? I chose to trust him.
She was in his hands, and so was I. He knew what my fragile heart could take, and if I had to go through the searing pain of losing someone, he would see me through it. I wouldn’t live my life in fear, and I wouldn’t let the potential of losing her keep me from pursuing her. If God was up to something, and if he was building something between us, I was not going to let my own fear cause me to miss out. I needed to “let go, and let God” as the saying goes. Not just let go of my fear and worry, but especially my desire for control.
If there is one thing I have learned, it’s that there is a God, and I am not him. It was his providence that intersected our paths that first night when Andrea and I both went to meet Katie. And it was his providence that had put us together again, on the night I got to drive her home. And it would be his providence that continues to provide for and sustain us all these years later. There is no such thing as chance—only providence—and that providence frequently surprises me. (posted 11-26-21)