This fall, or rather this entire year, has been a whirlwind of changed plans, and as a result I have learned that I am not as adaptable as I used to think. It started early on, last winter, when Andrew was working long hours and trying to make it through a particularly difficult and prestigious military school while I was pregnant, attending classes at the local community college, and driving him 30+ minutes to work each day. Then it was the surprise of preeclampsia and early birth of Adeline, during which time Andrew was at another intense school and only got paternity leave thanks to an especially sympathetic superior. Now it's the pre-deployment scramble where we literally don't know what the next week will bring. This has meant a lot of traveling and adjusting of travel plans because I don't like to stay here alone without Andrew and use his every absence as an excuse to go to home and visit family.
For example, this weekend we drove up north for an extended Thanksgiving visit. Two days before the trip we discovered that Andrew would pretty much be gone from the end of our trip until the beginning of his Christmas break (another set of dates that has yet to be finalized), so we quickly devised a tentative foolproof plan for the next few months which included me spending most of it in the north punctuated by a quick post-Christmas trip back south to pack up our house. Given my year of experience with military family life, I should have known this plan wouldn't survive the week, but for whatever reason I spent the week in the naive bliss of imagining we had a grip on (read: total control of) our lives for the next few months.
Alas, as Jeremiah would say, "You duped me Lord, and I let myself be duped."
The night before Andrew's trip back down south he approached me with the news that he actually had a week back at work before leaving on the aforementioned pre-Christmas trip. This meant that I had the option of driving back to spend an extra week with him and then flying up again for his absence. It only altered my precious plan by a week, an extra drive, and a flight, and it meant that I would get to enjoy six more days with my beloved husband so by all processes of logic I should have been thrilled.
Woman's emotions have long operated in opposition to logic however, and I was less than thrilled. In fact, to be blunt, I threw what could be best described as a "hissy fit".
"I can't do this anymore," I vented to poor Andrew. "I'm so sick of changing plans."
Fortunately, God gave me the most patient husband alive. He has this sixth sense about when to take my emotions seriously and when to just wait and let me get it out of my system. He could have been frustrated that I was dragging my feet about the idea or even hurt that I didn't appear overjoyed at the prospect of spending more time with him. Instead, he calmly sympathized and gave me the option to stay with my family and not undertake another "uprooting" as I dramatically termed it and then kind of backed off until I came to my senses.
To be fair, I had been hit pretty hard with a cold over the weekend and hadn't gotten enough sleep, and it's true that our lives have been fairly uncertain lately, but we aren't the first to face such things. In the end, I realized it all boils down to this need that I have (and I suspect I'm not alone) for control.
I don't like when plans change, when life is unpredictable, even when the dishes aren't put away properly because I like to feel like I can influence things and people around me in a way that is comfortable to me. I don't think I'm a control freak. I'm just human and we like to think we're bigger than we are. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how you look at it), we're not in total control and we never have been. We have the ability to make small choices that have a certain amount of influence and sometimes that goes to our heads. It's kind of ridiculous. I mean, how do we think we got free will in the first place? We didn't even get to be alive by ourselves.
I see this attempt for control even with six month old Adeline. As soon as she grasped the fact that her fingers were a part of her and could be manipulated she began trying to grab everything within reach and shove it into her mouth. Sometimes, however, she doesn't understand that some things should not be grabbed or eaten–dirty diapers, hot mugs of coffee, nasty hairballs on the floor. I have a somewhat better sense of what is best for her and have to snatch the dangerous things away and put the appropriate things within her reach–rattles, squishy toys, soft blankets that are also big enough to shove in her mouth without being choked upon (can you tell she's teething?). I think this is probably similar to how God sees us.
"Here have a life choice...oh, not that life choice...ok, try this instead. Oops, poor thing, don't cry.."
But like me with Adeline, he doesn't force us to pick things up. He allows us to discover our own abilities and make our own decisions for a little bit and then gently nudges us in the right direction. In this instance, I was offered the choice to undergo a slight inconvenience of more travel for the sake of spending more time with Andrew and here I am in my own home again, enjoying the fact that Andrew got off at 1pm today. If I had stayed away we wouldn't have this time together and I would regret that. Would it have been nicer to know his schedule in advance? Yes. Would I have learned a valuable lesson about flexibility and not being the supreme ruler of my own universe if I had known his schedule in advance? No.
It turns out there's order in this chaotic life. We just have to find and appreciate it. And I suppose it wouldn't be quite the same adventure if everything worked out according to plan.
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