An Exercise in Trust

I was watching Chiara on the uneven parallel bars at her gymnastics studio this weekend, and it struck me that her afterschool hobby really requires a very grown-up quality I often find lacking in myself: trust.

What Chiara does every time she spins around the bar and releases her hands to fly through the air to her landing spot, is what I long to do—in a much more figurative way, of course— when confronted by the inevitable twists and turns of human existence. I may not have to spin on a bar or balance on a beam, but how I wish I could learn to trust that if I let go of my need to control things, I will end up where I need to be, even if I wobble a bit on the landing.

The interesting thing about trust—whether in gymnastics or life—is that a lack of it cannot only keep us from getting where we need to go; it can be downright dangerous to our physical or spiritual health, depending on whether our high bar is in a gym or in our mind. Chiara told me recently about a complicated move she’s working on. Even as she perfected the move, she insisted her coach spot her, but the last time she did the move that extra bit of assistance caused her to go too far. Her coach had to remind her that she could do it and was in fact safer and better off without the supportive hand underneath her. Sure enough, Chiara let go and landed it, a move two levels above her class. That’s what a little trust can do.

It’s not the first time something or someone has suggested I loosen my grip on life. I remember talking to a good friend not long ago about taking on a new challenge in my work life. What she told me then sounds an awful lot like what Chiara is showing me now.

“Imagine that you’re swinging on a trapeze,” she said. “You can see the other bar you need to grab; it’s right there. But you can’t get to that bar unless you let go of the one you’re holding at the moment. Fear is that space between, that moment when you’re not holding onto anything. You have to trust that if you let go and reach, you’ll get to the other bar.”

She’s exactly right. Even now, as I face an exciting but frightening new adventure, I have to admit that I’m holding onto my current trapeze bar for dear life, watching the other bar swinging ever so slightly beyond my grasp. I can almost feel it, but every time I stretch in that direction, I get a bit unstable and pull back, looking down to see if the net is still there.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” my friend asked. You don’t want to pose a question like that to someone like me. There aren’t enough hours in the day to hear my litany of “What ifs…” But she waited expectantly for my answer. “I’ll make a fool of myself,” I told her. My friend looked at me in the sweet and peaceful way she has about her and reminded me that fear breeds fear and that I need to let go and let the Universe accept all the fear that’s weighing down my shoulders and mind and heart so I can focus on something positive.

She said “universe,” but I heard “God” because that is my Universe. And that is what God asks of us: Don’t be afraid. Surrender. Trust.

Whatever it is we’re clinging to right now, God asks us to let go, to trust, to believe without question that we will land in the right place. It’s time to take a page from Chiara’s playbook and see what it feels like to fly through the air with nothing but trust in God holding me up.   

Mary DeTurris Poust is a retreat leader, public speaker and author of six books on Catholic spirituality. Visit her at at: www.notstrictlyspiritual.com.