I just made an appointment for our sixth surgery in eight months. “Our” meaning our family. More specifically, there have been two for oldest son and this will be the fourth for baby girl. I’m not really digging it. Once again, this wasn’t part of my plan.
I really like plans.
Things like predictability and preparation are some of my favorite things. No joke. I really enjoy schedules, lists, calendars, highlighters, etc. I get super excited when I get to use my label maker. I know, some of you are totally cringing right now. You are likely those people that do crazy things like ride in hot air balloons, jump out of FLYING planes or off of perfectly good bridges with rubber bands on your ankles. It’s okay, I don’t understand you either.
Yup, you can take your mud runs and your “spontaneity” and I’ll be perfectly comfortable with a nice boring day, free of chaos, reading a great book. If this life thing were up to me, that would be my plan.
But it’s not.
So my flesh (every extra fluffy pound) often sits in waiting rooms or on route to appointments re-rearranging my mental schedule for the hundredth time and crying out for just a little bit of boredom. A little less crisis. My flesh wants to be the Mom that’s at home instead doing the laundry, putting together a nice healthy dinner, looking up birthday party ideas on Pinterest, volunteering for ALL THE THINGS, welcoming everyone home to a nice, relaxed, stress free house and never dropping any of the balls. (I am constantly dropping balls. Very frustrating.)
I feel like it’s a good plan. I also often feel like I could really do some amazing things with God with this plan. Just think of how big my mission field could be! I could do the mission trips and serve in all sorts of ways I just can’t right now. I could be that child of God that is running around with the Good News in far away places instead of running around chasing my tail, struggling to serve just the few in my reach. I’ve tried to convince God of the brilliance of my plan but either this sounds a lot like bargaining and whining to Him or He is just pretty confident that His plan is still better.
So my faith will keep reminding me that I may have plans, but God has a purpose. On days like today when my flesh just really, really, wants a little boredom, I will instead cry out in prayer and ask my merciful Father to show me just a molecule of His purpose in all of this. To help me re-remember that His plans are for my good and His glory.
Because my best laid plan has nothing on His purpose.