On feeling powerless

I’m not one to say God spoke to me. And maybe this isn’t one of those times, and I’d be okay with that. But I think He did, and I can count the experiences I’ve had like this on one hand. So, feel free to keep that in mind as you read.

I recently had a real bad day.

I won’t go into all the ugly details, but it was a rare place where several major family crises intersected, and William’s struggles exacerbated all of it. We’ll suffice it to say I don’t ever, ever want to live through a day like that again.

But oddly, I had the rare opportunity that day to commute William to school by myself, so I cried my way home, begging God to tell me if I mattered at all in the midst of all the chaos, and screaming again and again that I felt so powerless. My voice, my power, my rights, my everything had been taken away, and I had no hope of wresting it back.

I cried it out. I was driving country roads with no one around, and I went slow, so that I wouldn’t feel like a speeding thousand-pound bomb. There wasn’t much left of my emotional outburst anyway, and then, of all things, I thought of the ancient Greek plays. World’s first theater.

You can’t write plays like those anymore, from an artistic standpoint. All the characters, every time, would make the biggest mess they could out of their lives, and once their problems became completely impossible to solve, the gods came down and boom! Everything’s fixed.

Heh. I thought. So, God? You know those Greek plays? I’m like that right now. I am down to basics. I have no strength left, no creativity, and very little faith. I don’t even have enough faith to ask you anything except to just come down and fix this mess. Soooo…how ya feelin’ about that?

I scoffed a little, amused at myself. Sometimes my literature nerdity makes me feel hilarious. And I elbow God a little and go, heh, right? I know you remember those Greek plays. Yeah, ya do. So I got my chuckle out of it and fell quiet.

And then a dog jumped out in front of me.


It was far enough away, but I’m an autism mama and I’m on high alert all the time, so I yelled a few bad words and slammed on my brakes.

I recognized him. He’s jumped out at me before and I call him Jake. Not sure why. But I’m like, Jake? You gotta stop doing that. In the meantime, I will pay closer attention to how fast I’m going. I do not want to kill you. Mwah. Yeah, go get that bird, dude.

Kept driving.

A second later, a deer darted across the road in front of me. This one was closer, much closer, and I slammed on the brakes again. Stopped on the road, I just watched her dive into the foliage. She was graceful, fast. I watched her in awe (a deer in the middle of the street at 10:30 am? Really?) and checked myself again. I couldn’t have been going too fast yet; I was still picking up my speed from making way for Jake. But it was worth thinking about. I know I’m in my head, but I really don’t want to hurt anyone.

Kept going. I turned onto another street. This one was known for being busier, but still no one around.

And then I saw something small–super small–hopping down the opposite lane toward me.

A bird? I slowed down.

Kept hopping. Still didn’t look much bigger than a chickadee, but why was it still hopping?

It turned its left profile toward me. A BABY BUNNY, YOU GUYS.


I wasn’t in a hurry and still no one was around, so I slowed nearly to a stop and waited for it to decide which way to cross the street. It was closer to the other side, so it hopped into the grass and disappeared. Gah. Cutest ever.

I was still a little smiley about that when suddenly, a message.

You have tremendous power.


You have the power to destroy, and the power to protect.


My mind sat in total silence for a minute, and then the peaceful, thankful, slightly humiliated tears fell.

Thanks, God. I got it.

When God speaks, there’s really nothing for a human being to add. So I’ll just let it be.

One Comment Add yours

  1. Emmie says:

    Thank you so much for sharing this experience with us.


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