I am a planner, with a five year planner. I'm not going digital with it, not ever, because I love seeing it all in front of me, the months stretched out...I love different colored pens, and when I figuratively "pencil it in", I actually pencil it in 'till it gets promoted to the certainty of ink or wiped off the record with pink eraser.
It's how I keep it all straight with four kiddos, it's how I stay on top of all the many things Matt has going on, it's how I end and start each day, and as the kids know, writing your name across the month with purple crayon is the best way to drive mom bonkers.
You might have noticed that as teachers, we planned our first baby for Christmas break, and finding two weeks too short to have a baby, carefully prayed and planned the next three for June, July and August...summer break babies. When Lily wants to go to a party, when Sofie wants a sleepover, when I'm making Greek for small group, when a friend just wants to grab coffee....I have to get back to that paper planner before making a decision, and I can tell you what we had for dinner 16 Tuesday nights ago.
I'm realizing that this part of me is why this season has been so hard, so paralyzing for me.
It's not that we don't want this baby.
It's that we didn't plan for her. We didn't pray for her. We didn't pencil OR pen her in, nor did I check to make sure that we had the space and the time for the different seasons of carrying and caring for a baby, so as I look over the next months, carefully charted, it feels like she's just not gonna fit.
I didn't have dad down for illness this year, not in pencil or in pen, not at all. I didn't have this way paved out for these days, and I keep finding myself again and again unable TO plan for walking it with him. I don't know if he'll be in Florida with another round of chemo next month so we can plan a visit...or if his doctors will want him back in Cleveland after this round, or if surgery and all that entails will be next month or the next or four months from now.
I'm in the middle of lots of roads I didn't chart, and as I look back on these last few months, I'm realizing that I've been rather slumped in the middle of the road, stubbornly unwilling or despairingly unable to move.
I'm struggling to get my shoes tied and to fit Ben on my lap, Dad's struggling with achy joins and finding hair on his pillow every time he wakes up, I'm suddenly looking Lily straight in the eye, chin to chin...constant reminders that the road is being travelled despite my resistance and refusal to sign up for it.
I know He's at work in this...little kicks in the gut all hours of the day and night remind me. I know God's at work in my brother's life, even when it feels so aimless, overwhelming and circular...because every time we pray, the Lord clearly gives me the image of Him standing right behind him. I know God is going to use this journey of my dad's, because He has proven me a million times that no struggle has ever been wasted in His hands, and my dad is most certainly firmly in Him hands.
I know He's wielding and working something far more certain than pencil or pen into these coming days and months on a calendar currently covered in question marks, and it's a hard place to sit...firmly planted on a conveyor belt.
As I'm realizing my heart has been dragging and stubborn, I'm calling out anew...Lord, just today. I need you in a desperate way.
And the Lord, just today, I keep finding Him.
Our sweet neighbor giving us her late husband's rocking chair, done and ready for baby girl, special and not further stretching our finances. Girls night over hummus and pita last night with women who have become precious and trusted and sharpening friends, bringing laughter and tears and movement to my perspective. The Lord meeting me with simple, deep touches of His Word...read a million times and whispering with new meaning this season. Snuggling by the fire with library books and attentive little ones who never have heard it enough...reminding me to stop planning and sit all the pieces with Him instead of dwelling over them stubbornly alone by the roadside.
I'm not exactly embracing all these current struggles.
But I'm embracing Him, both unchanging and on the move, and clinging to the shadow of His wings.
So I guess if He's on the move, then so am I.
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