I have a dream. I do. It’s not as profound as the one the phenomenal Dr. Martin Luther King shared in his history-making speech. I don’t aspire to such lofty goals. My dream is much simpler.
Are you ready?
I have a dream that someday, some way, my plans for the day or event or task or even hour, will actually pan out the way I envision them. That is all, good friends.
Some of you are completely underwhelmed by this vision. Others of you are nodding as though you are competing for Bobble Head of the Year. You are thinking to yourself, “She is singing the song of my people.” Good. That means we belong to the same tribe.
I had a plan for today. It was a great one. I was all aflutter at the thought of wrapping up our wonderful online Bible readings/sharing time with The Blog to End All Blogs, completing our journey with a literary masterpiece that would enter the category of Things I Could Never Have Imagined Missing Out On to all who beheld it. Ok. That’s probably pushing it. I really did have a great idea, though. I took notes and everything.
As usual, that was not to be. My first clue should have been the fact that Gregg left town yesterday, and we all know how well that goes for me. For any of you just tuning in, my stints as a temporary single parent generally involve plague, pestilence or weird disasters. It’s gotten to the point that’s just past funny and rounding the corner to enter borderline scary (like, truly scary….not just tossing the word out there). My second clue should have been my pending trip. I rarely travel, and I never travel alone for something that involves only my “stuff”. I have this incredible opportunity to attend a Women’s Ministry training in Nashville, so bit the bullet and booked myself a shot at learning how to do this right. I have been on pins and needles about this trip, alternating between excitement and intimidation (this is totally unfamiliar territory for me….and I don’t know anyone else in the group, including my roommate, who I’ll meet when we check in). I have incredible Mommy Guilt about leaving kids, and Work Guilt about taking off. Plus, I hate to fly. Like, really hate it. I won’t go into details on how much or why because that would take pages of explaining and result in me having an anxiety attack right here and now. Just know it ain’t pretty. And be glad you don’t have to sit by me on a plane.
Despite having trouble sleeping because of all the lists swirling around in my head, I was feeling pretty good about the whole situation. So, naturally, Drew woke up with 102 fever the morning before I’m supposed to leave. For the love….. I can’t type the words that came to mind because this isn’t that kind of blog.
I made the necessary calls, cancelled my work day, and waited for our pediatrician appointment. Sure enough, the verdict was flu. I knew it would be. The poor child looked positively terrible. Plus, Gregg’s out of town, so plague.
And now the crushing weight of additional Bad Mommy Guilt versus Flaking on a Marvelous Event Guilt.
I sat in the car with my sweet, sick boy and cried the whole way to the pharmacy.
Because, despite everyone’s assurances he will be fine (grandparents, friends, his doctor, his daddy) and that we got the Tamiflu early enough to help, and both grandmothers managed to keep his parents alive so should be able to pull this off……I just felt totally deflated. I’m his mother! I shouldn’t pick anything over him! I should be there for every sniffle, every tear, every fever or need for a hug. Yes, I feel called to pursue this path….but I’m called to be a wife and mother first! Maybe I’m hearing the wrong calling. Maybe I’m totally off. Maybe I suck at this and God decided to knock me aside for someone better suited.
I bet the women who do this really well don’t have sick kids and disasters pop up when they try to leave. God probably sets rainbows up to pave the skies for their planes.
Yes, that is ridiculous. I can, on occasion, be ever so slightly melodramatic. Shocking, I know.
So, I pulled John 21 for our final reading, and for my reality check to myself. It’s pretty amazing. You should read it if you haven’t in a while…or ever.
Jesus is super clear. He says, “Follow me.” And when Peter looks at another disciple and asks, “What about that guy? What’s he doing?”, He basically tells Mr. Nosy to mind his own beeswax. If the path for the other guy is longer or shinier or full of rainbows, “what is that to you? You must follow me.” I love a good Savior Smackdown (when it’s not aimed at me, of course). Because once we hear His call, we’re out of excuses. The detours and obstacles are temporary. We’re supposed to follow Him. Period.
In spite of our fears. In spite of our egos. In spite of our distractions, disappointments and devastations. He has a plan, and we should fall in line.
The final verse in the book is John 21:25, and it was like a dagger to my little writer’s heart. It says: “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”
Perhaps what I envision isn’t quite the point, eh?
Perhaps my musings and ramblings aren’t the issue as much as my ability to listen, and then obey.
So, I’ll be boarding a plane soon. I’ll be staring at my baby’s picture and lifting him up to the One who loves him even more than I do…and who is actually the Great Healer of all. I’ll be humbling my heart and opening my mind to learn from those who know way more than I do, and I’ll be bustling down the path that leads me to my Father’s plan.
I’m sure I’ll be derailed plenty more times. That’s ok. I know a great book that was put together by an inspired team of writers for just such an occasion.
I’ll be clutching it tightly during take-off and landing.
Solidarity, sisters. You are now free to move about your destiny.