"Let go and let God" is a favorite expression of many who are in recovery. Although I am not in recovery from addiction, the expression is one I've adopted in my faith life and incorporated into my "everyday" life. Much like that implied separation between my faith and the rest of my life, the phrase "Let go..." can be confusing if I don't revisit it. Letting go can suggest a relinquishing of control, (a threat) or a glorious surrender of that which we can't control, (a relief). I find myself revisiting these ideas regularly. In a moment of epiphany, I understand that I am given a choice daily. I can separate out my faith like the yolk from the egg white, but then I am left with either or. I can either make angel food cake from the whites, or custard from the yolks, but I can't prepare both simultaneously. The separation for me results in anxiety. It leaves me feeling personally responsible for everyone and everything in my life. Fatigue sets in, and the negative spiral begins. When we view letting go as a comfort, not as an admission of our own lack of worth or work, we become free. In this freedom, we bear our strongest likeness to God; we unearth our true selves. In this letting go, we acknowledge our spiritual selves and our connection to all beings, and competition becomes simply a by-product of our need for control. Letting God, for me, goes hand in hand with letting go. It allows me to turn over the concerns that are too big for me into cosmic hands; not to dismiss me of responsibility for my actions, but to trust that I am only human. My "humaness" comes with foibles. To trust fully and only in my own human abilities is to allow anger, fear, jealousy, and mistrust to rule. I dig in my heels and resort to what I think I know. I make my "to do" list, and nail it, but still feel as though there is something I should be doing. And I hold on. When I loosen the grip and let go, of my "abilities", my emotions, my fear of inadequacy, it is not that God suddenly steps in and takes over. He is always there. It is my "letting" that is not. And so, today, at the start of a new week, in the midst of starting a new business, in the newness that comes with letting go of the old, I will "let God". Chances are, I'll need to remind myself to relax the grip of the hands, to open the heart wider, understanding that sometimes sorrow lets go when our hearts expand. Today I'll let go, and in doing so, make room for so much more.