THERE WAS A BAPTISM  in church recently and I was struck by one of the lines in the service. “Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love?” Like many of the questions in religious rites, the answer is proscribed and uttered easily: “I will, with God’s help” and then you move on to the next question.  But the notion of complete trust is a complex one, and a topic which has been on my mind.

Over the last three years, there have been plenty of high points and low points.  On more than one occasion, it seemed like we had run out of options.  Things seemed particularly grim, and none of the possible outcomes seemed like a good one. This was especially true immediately after the stroke, where each new infection or setback placed us in a corner with nowhere to turn. Strangely, at the time, I remember having an abiding belief that things were working out.  Whether that meant a good outcome a bad one, I still felt that immutable sense of the future playing out as it was meant to.  I’m not sure if it diminished the fear or ameliorated the despair; but it eliminated any uncertainty about whom or what I could trust.

Oddly, there’s a strange kind of freedom that we find at the end of a rope.  Just like a lack of possessions frees you from worrying about them, an absence of choices brings with it a kind of strange peace.  And born out of this is that absolute, implicit, inescapable trust.

Our lives have become much less dramatic over the last three years, but there continue to be challenges – some of them quite daunting. I have frequently found myself backed into a corner at the eleventh hour – out of ideas or solutions. It’s only when I am so startlingly reminded that I am completely powerless do I remember to trust – to rely on providence, on friends or our community to come through in a pinch.

The lesson for me?  Remember what that 11:59 trust feels like and let it grow into a whole trust in grace and love every minute of every day.