You'd think that by now I would have figured out that God knows how to run a universe better than I. Seriously--He's an eternal, omnipresent, omniscient being. I'm an 18-year-old who's never been out of the continental United States and, though I'd probably qualify as a genius if I had the time or inclination to have such a thing tested, my understanding is nonetheless very limited. I don't know what we're having for dinner tonight (Mom? What is for dinner tonight?), what right have I to think that I can arrange my life in the way that will be best for me?
Yet here I am. God and I had a serious talk last night about my attitude. You see, it goes like this: Just when I think I have this surrender thing down, something happens that upsets my neat little world and I promptly pitch a fit. This shouldn't be happening, I complain. It's not fair. God allows me my tantrum and when I'm done He picks me up, plops me down at the foot of the Cross, lets me ponder a bit, and then says, Yeah, sometimes life's not fair.
It's okay to say, "This isn't fair." It's okay to have a good cry when I've been disappointed. What's not okay is sitting around wallowing in my misfortune. If I truly believe that God works all things for the good of those who love Him* (and I do), then I have to pick myself up, brush myself off, and keep right on plugging away. I'd like to be the kind of person whose faith is strong enough that they don't get knocked down by circumstances beyond their control. Since I'm nowhere near that strong, I simply, stubbornly, persist in trying again--one of these days I'm going to get it right.