Thursday, April 4, 2013

Plans

"We plan, God laughs." -Yiddish Proverb
 
Usually on my work lunch break, which is 30 minutes, I end up running errands. Since it's so much easier to run around without children, I visit the Super Wal-Mart a lot. The bank. The post office. Every once in a while, there won't be anything pressing to do, and I'll go to the park and take a walk. Do a little praying. Enjoying the quiet, and the wind rustling the trees and sound of my own footsteps.
Lately, I've been doing a lot of walking at work, though. And even more at night. The Dude is fully night weaned. He nurses maybe 5 minutes total during the day sometimes, since he just wants to, and I don't mind. But at night, he is weaned. And he's sleeping longer stretches now. He wakes sometimes 1 time per night now instead of 5-6. It's a big improvement, except it's just as exhausting.
Now that he is sleeping so much at night, he doesn't seem to need as much time in bed. He goes to bed much later, wakes earlier, and takes forever to put to sleep.
He's still not terribly pleased about this whole weaning thing either, so if he's not completely exhausted at bedtime, and I am trying to rock him, he spends a lot of time screaming.
 
So it's easier to take an evening walk.
And yesterday, as my lunch break approached, and I realized I had absolutely nothing I had to do, and my feet hurt too much to take a walk, I found myself at the park anyway. Sitting under a tree, looking out over the pond on a very windy afternoon, and talking to God. Listening to Him laugh.
He wasn't laughing at me, exactly. I don't think He does that.


Except maybe to teach me to lighten up a little sometimes.
  To get me to look at the other side of things, and realize- it's ok to make plans. And that maybe sometimes He leads us to make plans just to see if we're ready to let go of something that's really really important to us.
Or maybe He even leads us to make plans just to see how flexible we will be about dropping them.
I looked out over that water, sitting there in the springtime grass with my let-down hair swirling around my face and I talked to Him about tomorrow.
And I told Him that I'm not afraid of it.
And for the first time in a long time, I knew that I meant it.
I was looking back at some old blog posts from right around the turn of the year. It's like I knew what this year would hold. I guess in some ways I did, but I don't think I really knew. God prepares our hearts, but sometimes our responses are still surprising.

"Forget the former things, do not dwell upon the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up, do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness, and streams in the wasteland."
-Isaiah 43: 18-19

God gave me that verse as the year began, but I didn't realize until yesterday how much I would need it.
It's not just the chubby baby cheeks and the rocking and the "firsts" that we hold onto.
Sometimes the things of the past that we can't forget are things are like: failure, and disappointment, struggle, and fear.
Sometimes, don't we just settle in to the wasteland, and get comfortable in it? Accept it as the new normal? Try to work our lives around it?

God is wanting to do a new thing.
I do perceive it.
But, for now, I am done trying to anticipate it and figure out the details.

The wind was blowing hard at the park yesterday. Whipping the waters of the pond up into quite a frenzy and a current. The clouds were moving, the waters were moving.

Like life.

Like change.
But I was just sitting there in the grass, watching it go by.
Watching the little bird that hopped among the purple flowers that reminded me of my little red haired boy, and how he must already know he's royalty.
And reminded me of how "if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!" (Luke 12:28)
 
Thinking how it's not my job to make a plan for how I'll navigate that fast-moving pond.
It's just my job to sit and wait for God to go sailing by on some rickety-looking wooden raft, and offer me a hand.
 
And all I have to do is take it.
 
I'm excited about hopping on to that raft. Because if He's there, it's going to be a wild ride. It's going to be an amazing ride. I'm grateful to be hopping on to that raft with the man God made for me before I was even born. The man whose heart is even bigger than his muscles. With two boys who exhaust and thrill me daily.
 
 I don't know why I have been given so much. Except that, like everything, it's not really about me. It's because our God- the God who made these waters, the swaying grass, the hopping birds, the swiftly moving clouds, and this man and these boys whose hands I am blessed to hold- is a God of details, and wonder and intricate imagionations.
 
Where are we going? I have no idea. How will we get there? We'll have to see.
All I know is, it's going to be a beautiful ride.

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