My life is in flux—my husband and I are entering a new chapter and both of us are in the waiting mode to see where God leads us now. He is retiring from full-time teaching; I am, after a 4-month re-entry into part-time work at the Write Place, again approaching the great unknown—on what will my writing focus? This lack of a plan is very unnerving to me.
I’ve been drawn into this idea slowly over the last few years, kicking and screaming. I like the security of making a plan. It doesn’t mean I have to follow it to the letter, but it’s a structure I can launch from, tweak, adapt. Throughout my life I’ve wanted to know the plan—it’s my security blanket. If there isn’t one, I’m very willing to make one.
Here’s my new plan. For the first time since I can remember in my life, I’m not going to make one. I don’t need to. My security, my launching pad, is not my plan. It never has been. It’s God—I am in His plan. Oh, He let me make plans, foiled them and open doors, smiled when I hung onto my plans with all my strength until I finally let go and heard His whisper of a better way, and patiently held me when I cried when His plan was not a forever plan and I didn’t want to let go of it …
My plan is whatever God has in store for me. Whatever—in the biggest sense of the term. Bring it on, God. Help me to listen, recognize your voice, open my eyes to your leading, and follow. It’s your plan. It always has been and always will be.
And I stand on your promise to love me with your unfailing love. Ebenezer—through all my life until today God has been with me. I remember. I have seen it. I will see it. I will remember.
I praise you Lord for your unfailing love and mercy.