Plans

Off the cuff. By the seat of your pants. Just wing it. Impromptu. It’ll work out. Don’t sweat the details. Everything is going to be okay.

The mere act of typing these phrases nauseates me.

I plan. God chuckles.

I plan again.

God snickers.

No plan survives contact with the enemy.  Mine makes the first ten minutes of any given activity go smoothly. Minute eleven?

Well, no plan survives contact with the enemy.

I create schedules, to do lists, I defrost meats the day before the meal. I am the prefrontal cortex for my family – and some of my friends. I am Ms. Executive Function.

Until I’m not.

Like when I put the chicken in the upper oven – only to discover that it was the lower one I preheated. Or when red lights outnumber green on a well-timed, Waze-researched trip–making me late. When the weather is not as predicted and the sweater that completed the outfit is now a stifling non-starter. When a child’s sniffles cannot be attributed to allergies and they must remain home, by your side.

When your kids turn out to be strong-willed and free-thinking individuals who refuse to follow the path planned for them.

When you plan how your life will go and you get diagnosed with an idiosyncratic, neurodegenerative disease that makes grace an ever more laughable a goal.

That’s when you discover you’re not the puppet master.  That’s when God belly-laughs and you realize that life is an off the cuff, impromptu adventure that doesn’t always allow you to sweat the details. Often you do have to play it by ear and fly by the seat of your pants. 

And when you realize this, that’s when God smiles along with you.