When Plans Go Pear-Shaped
Have you ever had one of those days where Murphy's Law isn't just a saying but your personal reality? Jason and I experienced that miserable phenomenon this week. It began with my writing. Every task I attempted was met with utter frustration. What should have taken a couple of minutes ended up taking over an hour. It seemed like no matter which way I turned, I encountered a stumbling block or a brick wall. Seriously?
When we finally surrendered to the technological gremlins and decided to take our daily walk with Tess, the Welsh weather joined the conspiracy. The moment we stepped outside, the clouds unleashed what felt like the entire Irish Sea upon our heads. Lovely!
"It's just a light drizzle," Jason said optimistically as we trudged along, our clothes growing heavier with each step. By the time we made it home, we resembled three drowned rats (though Tess, admittedly, looked the most pitiful).
The cold, damp afternoon called for comfort food, so Jason volunteered to make his famous potato soup. I could hear the chopping and peeling from the bedroom as I attempted to dry my hair and change into some dry clothes. Before long, the pleasant aroma of sautéing onions filled the air, quickly followed by the acrid scent of something burning.
"Everything's fine!" Jason called before I could ask. "Just a slight... recalibration of our dinner timeline."
Realizing what had happened, I set aside my ministry tasks to help Jason with dinner prep (round 2). While he worked to salvage what he could, I offered to chop the leeks. Seeing that he already had a knife out, I opted to use it instead of grabbing one of the smaller knives that fit my petite hands better. I guess I don't need to tell you what happened next: small hands plus a big knife equals the need for a Band-Aid… or two.
Meanwhile, the package containing some ministry materials Jason desperately needed failed to arrive for the third time this week, and the temporary repair Jason had made to our car's exhaust decided it had fulfilled its contractual obligations. The result? A vehicle belching black smoke like a Victorian factory chimney and an emergency call to our already overbooked mechanic.
By late afternoon, we collapsed onto the sofa, finally eating the potato soup (the second batch) and wondering what we had done to deserve such a day.
It reminded me of Proverbs 16:9: "A man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps."
We had our plans for productive writing, a pleasant walk, a warm meal, and a functioning car, but God had other ideas. Why? I don't always know. Sometimes these frustrating days are merely life in a fallen world; other times, they're divine redirections.
What I do know is how to respond when plans disintegrate:
First, remember that God isn't surprised by our disasters. While I was wrapping the bandage around my injured finger, God remained sovereign.
Second, practice gratitude in the midst of chaos. Despite everything, we had shelter, food (eventually), and each other.
Third, maintain perspective. In the grand timeline of eternity, one chaotic Wednesday doesn't register as significant.
Finally, look for the lesson. Perhaps God wanted us to slow down, practice patience, or simply lean more heavily on Him than on our carefully constructed plans. Not to mention, I had the perfect illustration for my Wednesday evening Bible study on the ups and downs of Joseph's life.
James 4:13-15 reminds us: "Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain: Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that."
Next time your perfectly planned day collapses around you, remember that the One who created the universe has a perfect track record of working all things together for good. Even burnt soup, rainy walks, and finger boo-boos.