The Fiercest Action — Week Two Open Palms: Learning the Art of Abandonment Weeks 1–4: Unmasking the Mind — The Tug-of-War

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Last week, I began this twelve-week walk into radical humility and childlike trust.

My intention was to pay closer attention to the tug-of-war that takes place within me:

the part of my human nature that wants to manage, organise, anticipate and control, and the quieter invitation to let go, let God, and allow life to unfold with greater ease and grace.

I began noticing how many times I needed to return to my prayer prompts before my heart softened and my actions became less hurried.

The beginning of the week surprised me.

There were moments when letting go felt almost natural. I could recognise the familiar urge to take control, pause, pray, and find my way back to a gentler rhythm.

But as the week progressed, life presented circumstances I could not have planned for.

My husband had a heart attack.

And suddenly, the practice of surrender became much harder.

When someone we love faces a medical crisis, the mind can become very busy.

It wants answers.

It wants certainty.

It wants to make everything safe again.

It begins looking ahead, preparing for possibilities and trying to manage what cannot yet be known.

I noticed my own mind returning to its familiar position of control.

The very practice I had been learning became something I needed to reach for more often.

And perhaps this is an important part of the journey.

It is one thing to practise surrender when the day is gentle.

It is another to practise it when life reminds us how little we can control.

I am learning that surrender is not a place I arrive at once and remain forever.

It is a returning.

Sometimes a hundred small returnings in a single day.

And I do not believe I need to judge myself for that.

I simply need to notice.

To breathe.

To pray.

And to begin again.

For this second week, I am simplifying my daily practice.

Rather than trying to understand every movement of my mind or record every moment of resistance, I am choosing three gentle prompts centred on abandonment to God.

I want to explore the relationship between the actions I can choose and the outcomes I must learn to release.

I am calling this my lead and lag practice - this practice is being led by Steph Lassey https://www.instagram.com/channel/lRNUgsSEx9m3lGTG/

The lead is my part: noticing my response, pausing, praying and choosing how I will meet the moment before me.

The lag is what unfolds afterwards: the peace that may come, the circumstances that change or remain unchanged, and the small signs of grace I might otherwise overlook.

I cannot command peace to arrive.

I cannot guarantee an outcome through prayer. And I cannot make another person’s circumstances unfold according to my wishes.

But I can keep returning my attention and my heart to God.

That is the part I can practise.

And so, each day this week, I will return to three questions.

1. The Clenched Fist

What was I trying to control today?

Was it a physical symptom?

An expectation I had placed upon myself?

A task I felt I should have completed?

An anxiety about tomorrow?

The uncertainty surrounding someone I love?

I will try to name the thing honestly, without criticising myself for wanting to feel safe or in control.

My human nature is not something I need to fight with anger. It is something I am learning to recognise with humility.

Sometimes the first step towards surrender is simply admitting that my hands have become clenched.

2. The Open Palms

How did I respond with, “O Jesus, You take care of everything”?

This is where I will practise the small but difficult movement from grasping to releasing.

I might pause in the middle of a task.

I might sit quietly when my body needs rest.

I might pray a decade of the rosary while uncertainty continues around me.

I might acknowledge that I have done what I can for today and leave the rest unfinished.

Opening my palms does not mean I stop taking appropriate action. It means I stop pretending that everything depends upon me.

I can love my husband, attend to my health, care for my home and continue building Studio Kre’at without believing I must control every outcome.

My responsibility is to respond faithfully to the moment I have been given.

The outcome belongs to God.

3. The Father’s Footprints

Where did I catch a glimpse of His presence, His care or His peace?

This may be the gentlest question of all.

I am not looking for proof that everything will turn out as I hope.

I am looking for the small moments in which I become aware that I am not alone.

Perhaps it is the kindness of another person.

Perhaps it is a quiet moment beside my husband.

Perhaps it is the warmth of a cup of tea, the familiar rhythm of my rosary, or the simple realisation that I have been able to take the next breath without needing to solve the next ten things.

Perhaps the circumstances remain difficult, but something within me softens enough to meet them differently.

I want to become attentive to these little footprints of grace.

Not forcing myself to find a blessing in every hardship, but remaining open to the possibility that God’s companionship can still be found within an uncertain day.

Abandonment Is Not Another Thing to Get Right

There is something I want to remember as I begin this second week.

I must be careful not to turn surrender into another performance.

I could easily begin measuring how quickly I let go, how many times I needed to repeat a prayer, or how peacefully I managed to respond.

And before long, I might find myself trying to control the very practice intended to teach me how to release control.

So this week, I am giving myself permission to return as many times as I need.

If I pray the same prayer twenty times, I will pray it twenty times.

If my heart softens quickly, I will receive that gently.

If it takes hours, or if I finish the day still carrying unanswered questions, I will not declare the day a failure.

Abandonment is not the absence of fear, concern or human emotion.

It is the willingness to bring those things to God without demanding that I understand everything before I can trust Him.

And perhaps this is where childlike trust begins to take deeper root.

Not in knowing what tomorrow holds, but in learning to place tomorrow into hands larger than my own.

My Week Two Intention

For the next seven days, I will keep my daily record simple.

Three lines.

One clenched fist.

One movement towards open palms.

One glimpse of the Father’s footprints.

I will document these in my written reflections, my audio notes and my surrender jar, allowing the ordinary details of the week to show me what I am learning.

I do not know what this week will bring.

My health will continue to have its own rhythms. My husband’s recovery will unfold in its own time. Studio Kre’at will continue to grow through the work I can faithfully undertake, one small piece at a time.

I cannot promise that I will meet every circumstance peacefully.

But I can choose to return.

To the prayer.

To the present moment.

To the small action that belongs to me.

And then, with open palms, to release what does not.

Perhaps the fiercest action is not always doing more.

Perhaps sometimes it is resisting the urge to take everything back into my own hands.

So I begin Week Two with this prayer:

O Jesus, You take care of everything.

Help me to recognise what is mine to do and what I must entrust to You.

Teach me to hold my responsibilities with love, without gripping the outcomes with fear.