Life plan? Ppft what’s that?


On a recent trip, I was making my way through usual travel routines as I headed back home; leave for airport with plenty of time, drop off rental car, get through security lines, promptly board plane.

It’s no secret that I do not enjoy flying, but on this particular day I felt a great amount of angst as I made my way through the airport. It was the “I can feel it in my gut” type of angst, that I just couldn’t shake. Big Fisch (knowing all too well how to read me) would glance over at me and ask if everything was all right.

I’d nod my head thinking yes and no. Yes, nothing logical was wrong. But no, something did not feel right.

An hour later the entire airport was on lock down for a code red alert. Horrific weather ripped through the area as we were boarding the plane, causing everyone to take shelter from a storm that could have been very detrimental.

(I’ve requested that God stop putting me in Twister type scenarios but I don’t think He’s heard me yet.)

We all lived, thankfully and obviously, but the encounter was not fun and that nagging angst in my gut made a lot more sense afterwards.

I’m not claiming I have some powerful sixth sense that anticipates events before they happen, but I will say that several times in my life I’ve felt emotions for what is to come in a future state, without much clarity at the time as to why.

When Big Fisch and I first moved to Wilmington, I remember so clearly a day when I stood looking around my new home with a strange longing for a time to come when I would be an entrepreneur of sorts. I didn’t know when or how, but it was as if I had some glimpse into the future, knowing that one day I would work from home doing my own thing while balancing a family. Standing there in the silent (semi empty at the time) room, I felt an unexpected, overwhelming sense of grief knowing that in the future I would be in that stage with a bustling life of family and community,  but for now I would not have it. Nor was it near.

God was taking me down a very different path to begin, and I knew it. I was terrified at the thought of all the ways I’d have to change, and all the skills I’d have to learn, and all the new lessons of life He’d ask me to experience first hand. And on top of that, He was asking me to bury the plans and expectations for life that I had up to that point, which felt a bit offensive. Because my plans and expectations were part of what made me me. And if I buried them, I buried myself, did I not?

I sat on the bottom stair step while hot, angry tears rolled down my face. Why was I not joyful? I should be happy right now. What was to come in the next several years that I just had to go through? Why couldn’t we just skip ahead?

I remember God’s presence speaking two words: trust me.

It was the process that I needed, and He would take me through it one day at a time, hand in mine.

It’s been five years, almost to the day, that I had that insight into my future. It’s been a full, five years, and He has walked me through more than I have time to write about (at least for now), and I feel yet again a strange mix of emotions for what is to come in this next stage of life. My living room is starting to look empty again as we pack up for our move to Boston, and I can feel within me the longing for a time when I’ll be settled and to have roots in a place I’ll call home. I know I’ll love it one day and it will bring me much joy. But I also now that day it is not now, nor particularly near.

And again God’s presence speaks to me and asks, do you trust me? Do you trust me to bring you not just a little joy, but joy to fullest in the midst of a crazy, new adventure? Will you bury your expectations of what life “should” be like, and allow me to give you exactly what you need to live most alive through me?

I’m a slow learner.

I can feel Big Fisch nodding his head from where he sits.

But each morning when I wake up, I’m trying to answer wholeheartedly, “yes Lord.”

It’s not easy. And anyone who has lived a decade or two or more, knows life can be just simply hard at times and can leave us with a lot of unanswered questions and unmet expectations. When things feel hard, I want my own plans and control because somewhere down the line I’ve believed the illusion that I know what is best for me, and God does not.

But I’m wrong in that. And He proves himself over and over.

Life has always been more fulfilling and exciting God’s way. Always. And if I had to guess, I’m thinking He’s finding a lot of humor in showing this suburbia girl what excitement looks like in full-fledged city life, from a teeny-tiny apartment, with no vehicle.

I keep asking Him where he recommends I store all my shoes in my new place, but for some reason, He’s not responding.

I think I’ll take the silence as an eye roll.

So the one month (almost) count down to moving begins. Here’s to gearing up for the next adventure and whatever else it brings along.

Over and out,
Tiny Fisch