Insert Grace Here

The seasons of my life play out in a seamless and orderly fashion in my mind long before they arrive. The details unfold in such a way so as to allow a certain amount of expected setbacks. But the overall picture is untainted.

Life does not work this way.

With the passing of the years I’ve learned {I am learning.} to let go of those delusions of grandeur—my preconceived notions of how my days should play out. Still, my nature is to organize and plan. We’ve planned to have the interior of our home painted for over a year now. My father is my painter. Aside from his working around his unpredictable schedule, we’ve had my middle daughter’s wedding and a number of life’s other interruptions delay us this past year.

Health issues have been among the top of the list for interrupting daily life. Still, in 2014 I tried to organize and manage the details. With wedding planning, this is a must. But even well planned weddings do not guarantee the outcome.

There is freedom found in surrender. This seems to be the theme of my previous year. I stand firmly grounded on the Word of God, believing for great things for myself and my family. And I will not relent. As a child of God, I will believe for nothing less than what is rightfully ours. After all, Christ paid the ultimate price for us. So I believe for life abundant and grace abounding.

Yet, I’ve also learned to trust. The details do not always unfold the way I think they should. No, they rarely do.

Enter 2015.

While I approached it cautiously, I had a plan. The first quarter of this year I would delve into writing the remainder of the chapters of my first book. I even envisioned distractions by way of puppy training our youngest daughter’s beloved Christmas gift. There would likely be days in which health interrupted but answers would surely come. The walls were being painted room by room and those unfinished details in our master bedroom would be tied up. After all, our bedroom was painted last June. New bedding and just the right curtains take time. I search some days endlessly for these things and insist that no one close out the ridiculous number of tabs open on my laptop. They’re all there for a reason, a reminder. Never mind those bookmarks. I’ll never have my daughter’s wedding pictures printed if I keep forgetting. They’ve been uploaded and the tab must stay open! Yes, for two months; longer, if necessary!

February has arrived and our king size sheets are torn. Puppy claws have ripped two huge areas of the worn out sheets. Clean sheets are high on the list of favorites for me. I wash them frequently. But we are down to one set of worn out, torn sheets. I tried refusing to wash them in an effort to force us to make a decision and a purchase. That didn’t last. We slip into bed and catch a foot in the rips and tear them further. We laugh.

Our walls and vaulted living room ceiling are being painted. Construction zones move from one room to the other. My mind shifts like our puppy’s attention span from looking for new kitchen chairs, vinyl letters for our breakfast nook, to re-upholstery options for furniture. And health insurance. My sights are not all materialistic ones. They are details of making this house a home, seeking the LORD for plans for a possible move in our future, and yes, health insurance or the lack thereof.

Thus far, I’ve gained little clarity with my health issues. But tests are ordered for the 24th of this month and I am so grateful. We’ve had sickness invade our home this past week and I’ve watched my ability to control even the smallest of plans crumble. Sick girls have hogged our master bed twice this week. We attempt to brush the endless amount of crumbs from way too many meals eaten in bed due to sickness and construction. Our sleep is interrupted by puppy cries; our time and energy strained by training her around construction zones and nasty weather. The walls are closing in.

 

February did not arrive this way in my mind. My hard working parents would be blessed by us as they so deserve. Yet, instead, we are the recipients of blessing as they paint tirelessly, help tend sick girls and this big girl of theirs. They carpool my grandson to preschool, cook supper, and buy paint. I cry. I cry because I want to be the one blessing. But I’m learning to just receive. I cry because I’m so blessed. And one day we will be on the giving end, pouring right back out the blessings we are so richly given.

Nothing is going as planned this year. This year that I marked on my kitchen chalkboard: 2015 ~ The Year of Blessing! It is. Be sure that it is indeed. Yet, nothing is going as planned at all. My husband left work early yesterday to bring me to urgent care. My mama insisted; no was not an option. My husband found it necessary to drive me. We sat in the small room waiting for test results, listening to news of a series of unfortunate events that unfolded in our city throughout the day. Weak and sick and a little unsettled, I took a deep breath and looked at my tired husband sitting in the chair next to the patient’s table with his head in his hands. And I felt so blessed.

I don’t know how the days ahead will unfold for me or my family. But I know we are blessed. I anticipate blessing. I look for it. I will resist, try to resist, the urge to play it out in my mind. I’m learning that truth is steadfast in spite of circumstances. And sometimes, the circumstances reveal blessing in ways I could never expect.

Before leaving that room at the urgent care clinic yesterday, I smiled, anticipating being back home in our crazy and unpredictable environment, and said,

“I’m ready to get home and curl up in our torn sheets.”

And my husband smiled back.