Learning to Let Go: A Lesson I’ve Almost Learned by Kelly Flannery

“Medical school? Wow. How do you feel about that, Kelly?”

  It was a question I hadn’t been expecting.

  My husband and I were having dinner with a longtime friend—a medical student himself—telling him my husband had decided to apply to medical school.

  My husband and I had recently gotten married, and he was about to graduate from university. Throughout school, he had known he was interested in healthcare, but he wasn’t sure what form that would take. Chiropractor? No. Sports medicine? No. Physical therapist? No.

  He had only recently told me his decision to apply to medical school, and as soon as he told me, everything clicked into place. Of course he was meant to be a doctor. It fit him perfectly: his hardworking personality, his dedication to school and studying, and his calm in the face of chaos and stress.

  I was excited for him—I didn’t know what else I should be. I wondered what our friend knew that I didn’t.

  Today, two moves and tens of thousands of dollars later, I have spent years trying to learn God’s lesson of letting go of control and am, sometimes, succeeding.

  One thing about me, I am a planner. I love my old-school physical planner and writing out my to-do lists (Does anyone else love that point in the year when it’s time to get a new planner?). I make bucket lists and five-year plans and ten-year plans. I dream about the future and imagine its possibilities. I was writing down baby names and baby shower themes even when I knew it would be years before we started having kids.

  And if there’s one thing that’s hard to do with medical school, it’s plan.

  Even if you don’t know much about medical school, you can probably guess that it’s difficult to get into. Like, really difficult. When trying to get into medical school, you’re not applying to two or three programs—you’re applying to something more like fifteen schools, likely located all over the country.

  Then begins the wait. The wait to see if you will get accepted that year (it’s common for people to have to apply two or three times). The wait to see where in the country you will live for the next few years.

  I hated this part. I hated it with a fury I am not proud of. It was hard for me to fight against the resentment that wanted to sprout up in my chest.

  I didn’t like having my future in the hands of school admissions committees. I didn’t like watching my husband work so hard (MCAT tests and interviews and thirteen applications later) to not know whether or not he would get in.

  I didn’t want to have to wait to know where we would be or how it would affect us. I wanted to be the one in control. How could I be happy when I didn’t know what was going to happen?

  And yet, the Bible had something else to say on the matter:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight” (Prov. 3:5–6 NIV).

  “For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jer. 29:11 NIV).

  I had been so willing to trust that medical school was God’s plan for my husband. But it took me longer to see how that vision extended to me as well. This was part of God’s purpose for me too. I could either be mad and anxious about my lack of control or remember and rejoice that my life is in God’s hands.

  Although I often fail, I always try to do the latter.

  We ended up moving from the Seattle area on the western side of Washington State to the eastern side of Washington State in Spokane. And we fell in love with it. The different sides of Washington are very different from one another (the western side rainy, mild, and green, and the eastern side brown, sunny, and with more extreme weather).

  I honestly didn’t know if I would like Spokane. I had grown up in the Seattle area and was very loyal to it. I probably never would have chosen to live in Spokane. But I soon discovered it is a big, vibrant city with a lovely small-town energy and friendliness. Through medical school, we made a big group of lifelong friends. My husband and I found a Bible study group that reenergized our faith.

  Due to the chaotic nature of medical school, we are now back in Seattle. It is the second time we have moved across the state in the span of three years. More than likely, we will have to move again in 2026 when my husband starts residency.

  We are tens of thousands of dollars in debt due to the ever-rising fees of medical school. I don’t know when we will be able to pay it back. I am now thirty and don’t have any children yet, even though I always thought I’d start having children in my twenties.

  There are still times when I hate what feels like my lack of choice. But now I’ve seen how letting go and trusting God brings great things into my life—experiences and people I never knew I was missing until I found them.

  And I’m learning, slowly but surely, to remember that my future is in God’s hands. And I shouldn’t be afraid.

Kelly Flannery is a writer, editor, marketer, and the founder of Words That Stick LLC. She has a B.A. in English from Northwest University and is a graduate of the University of Washington’s Certificate in Editing program. She has a lifelong passion for books, whether it is writing them, editing them, looking at them in bookstores, or taking home more than she will ever be able to read. She believes in the power of storytelling and its ability to bind us together and show the glory of God. You can learn more about Kelly and her work at wordsthatstickllc.com.