Plans.

3/24/2020

Starting a morning run. As I run up a slight hill. To the main street out of my neighborhood. It’s always my tell. How is this run going to go? Strong. Or. Just get past mile 1 and I’ll settle in. Or. Uh oh.

I started up the hill. Glad to be out of the house for a bit. Air still cold. Sun out for a change. A nice treat these days. Passing the first car parked and I knew. Uh oh.

I started to complain in my head. What’s the point. I should just go back. I do not want to have to walk on a 3 mile run! But this peace started in my head. Overwhelming. Covering and washing away those thoughts. Run. Walk. I am still outside for fresh air.

I walked up the rest of the hill. Walked to the light. Used my elbow to push the button to cross. Words began to swirl through my head. Imagine a small whirlwind. Of words and phrases and sentences.

Running across the street. The words come together and speak to my heart.

Plans. I had plans. We had plans.

Mine were not big. A half-marathon I had been training by myself for. Our Ragnar team coming back for another year. Finally going to take that WB Studio Tour to roam through Stars Hollow. Open House with my kinders. Their green screen videos and all their hard work.

Not big. But they were still plans. And I am still disappointed. And that is ok.

Others. Major life events and plans were postponed. Cancelled. Weddings. Graduations. Trips of lifetimes. Planned surgeries. Jobs.

These. Plans also. Disappointments also. And also ok.

“For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord.”

My own life verse. The one I chose 30 years ago. The one I tend to forget.

Plans. God’s plans. “To help you, not to harm you. . .” Trying to be a backseat driver. Or an armchair quarterback. Thinking we know best. But. To realize. To admit. Though all our plans. Big and medium and small. Have changed and been canceled or postponed. God has a plan.

“To give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

Future. Hope. These are two words we are in desperate need of. I am in desperate need of. For those days when this relational girl misses her people. For the days when my boy ignores everything said to him about getting off the screens. For the days when my girl obsesses about numbers and deaths and the curve. For the days when my man locks himself in his home office to buffer the teenage arguments. For the days when I wonder if our household is going to turn into the Hunger Games. For the days when. . . you fill in the blank. Knowing we are only two. Two weeks into this present-and-who-knows-how-long future.

Proverbs 16:9 says, “The heart of a man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”

Our hearts were so full of plans for this spring. But the Lord. But God. He establishes our steps. And our steps right now are venturing down a path we’ve never been on. There is no worn down grass or brush. No pounded down dirt to follow. Yet there is something even better. But the Lord! But God! He has already established this path. He has already walked it. Where our steps will go and are going. Though we can’t see it. He is there. Making a way in this wilderness.

So as I continued on my run. Walk. I started up another hill. And my path crossed a young man. Him on the sidewalk. Me on the asphalt. And as I ran past and said hi. He stopped. Aaron was his name. And he began talking. Sharing all sorts of things on his heart. We talked about sports and jobs and school and church and rap music. Finding out we had some things in common. And after 10 minutes. We said goodbye. Him walking down the hill. Me up.

I left. Feeling lighter. Smiling. Because God gave me a very tangible lesson. If I had my way. Followed my plans. I would have run this 3 mile course. And I would never have met Aaron. No sharing of hearts and thoughts and rap music.

As someone who does not handle the unknown very well. Who can be very inflexible. I am having to lean on these words. Phrases. Sentences.

Plans. Paths. Establish my steps. For I (God) know. But God. But the Lord. Plans to give me a future and hope.

And I hold on to the tangible lesson. And I smile when I think of Aaron.