I spent a good deal of time over the weekend complaining to my husband about my anxiety.
I always feel like whatever I'm doing at any given time is not what I should be doing. I have a very hard time living in the moment.
The Big Man, being the Big Man, set forth to solve my dilemna, suggesting that I simply come up with A Plan. This Plan would allow me the freedom to enjoy my life, with all of its exciting challenges and all my varied duties. I would have A Plan for each day that would provide me with the ease and comfort of a handy Schedule.
I don't do well with schedules. When given one I tend to rebel. Like maps, they confuse me and make me slightly nauseous.
But the Big Man is a smart, savvy executive who does all sorts of important things each day. So I decided to give The Plan a whirl.
I didn't actually write down a schedule, but I had a very good idea of how my week would go. Each morning I planned to rise at 6:30, send Joey off to school and then go out for my walk. When I returned the other boys would still be sleeping, so I'd have some time to shower and have my breakfast, check my email and have some prayer time, and do some housework.
Since "formal" homeschooling will begin next week, I planned to set aside the hours from 10 am to 1pm to be with the boys. From 1pm to 3:30 pm would be "me" time. Fun! These blissful hours would be set aside each day for my writing and editing work, for blogging, researching and goofing off on the internet. I figured one or two (or three or four, if I could!) days a week I would sneak out to a coffee shop or the library to work alone. Ahhh....this Plan is awesome.
I'd have to be home to take AJ to work at 3:45, then pick up Joey from soccer practice at 4:30. Then it would be time to make dinner, followed by some relaxing time with the Big Man before getting the kids to bed and finishing up any housework that slipped through the cracks.
Isn't that an awesome Plan?
Monday morning I got up early, as planned, and headed out for my walk.
Then, as even the most dedicated do, I fell. I mean really, I fell, as in fell down. I hit a patch of uneven pavement, landed on my face, broke my glasses (something I've never done in 35 years of spectacle wearing) and really scraped up my hands. I fell, and the Plan started to fall apart.
Fortunately my fall occurred near my daughter's apartment. I woke up my son-in-law and he brought me home, and the Big Man insisted I go to urgent care. You know where this is leading. My morning turned into hours in a doctor's office (don't worry, I'm fine. Just scraped up, sore, and pissed.)
After that the Plan seemed to fade away, like a distant memory from some long-forgotten dream. I couldn't do the housework I had planned, as my hands were bandaged and sore. My house is a mess, with all the redecorating we're doing, and it just depressed me being here. I had dinner guests coming -- our pastor and his out-of-town guest -- and I'd forgotten all about that. Joey needed help with his homework, so time relaxing in the evening wasn't an option. Aaron had a meeting anyway -- forgot about that too!
So much for The Plan.
You know that expression, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans?" I usually like cliches and over-used quotes, but I don't like this one. It seems I'm God's favorite source of entertainment these days.
I like the illusion of control. I like pretending that I am the master of my fate. But the truth is something else entirely.
I'm a wife, a mom, a writer, an editor, a teacher, a sister, a daughter, a friend. I've been blessed with many roles, and many people depend on me. The thing is it's hard to plan when someone will need me, and it's hard to plan how available I'll be.
Because I just might fall.
In fact, I most certainly will.
But hopefully like that just man in scripture, I'll get back up again, even after seven times hitting the pavement. I may have A Plan, but God's got The Plan, and once again I've got to trust Him.
So that's The Plan.