The Practice of Release
A problem can also be handed over to our Higher Power by writing it down and putting it in a special place.
I keep a small wooden box on my dresser. When worry about my grandson's choices gets so loud I can't think straight, I write his name on a slip of paper, fold it, and put it in the box. It sounds silly. It works anyway.
Surrender was always too abstract for me. 'Let go and let God' — fine, but how? My brain doesn't have a release valve. It needs something physical, something my hands can do while my mind catches up. Writing the worry down, folding the paper, placing it in the box — each movement is a small act of obedience my body understands before my heart does.
Some mornings I open that box and find the same name written five, six, seven times. I used to feel ashamed of that. Shouldn't surrender stick? But now I see each slip differently. Every one is a moment I chose to let go instead of picking up the phone to check on him, manage him, fix him. Seven slips means seven times I chose trust over control.
Find a physical way to practice surrender today — write a worry on paper and put it somewhere specific, or hold a stone during prayer and set it down when you're done. Give your body a way to participate in letting go.
