“Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance.” – Epicurus

Chapter 3–Unforced Rhythms of Grace

Whose Plan is This, Anyway?

            Make a plan!  Set a goal!  Get up at 5:00!  Better still, at 4:00!  I made my plan and it was a good one.  And then our guest showed up three hours early.  And there was a big thunderstorm which drove my loved ones indoors.  Next my daughter called asking me to call the sheriff’s office about cows on the highway.

            All these things went away, and my son decided to come inside and dry off over coffee with me, this after my husband cooked a late breakfast and clearly wanted and indeed needed my help with a crossword and for me to join him at breakfast.

            Flexibility is a great attribute, as opposed to being married to a plan, which will often end in throwing up our hands and forgetting the whole thing.  Whether we’re trying to write a book or read one, we can take what I call a “sneaky view” of interruptions.

            By that I mean envisioning ourselves as navigating all these things, still arriving at our destination, but richer for the delays.  This requires a bit of getting alone and thinking things out.  “I won’t tell anyone, no one will know that things aren’t going to plan,” I whisper to myself.  “I’m not the least bit put off by this, because I’m way too cool to be derailed by this.  I’ll just take another route.”  Just as when you forsake the interstates for the backroads, there are creativity and joy boosters all along the way. 

            So, rather than being upset, I am looking at having coffee with my son, and being wanted by my husband as good things.  Very good things.  How can I incorporate the feeling of this unexpected blessing (see what I called it) into my writing?  What can I learn?  Shall I take a walk now, or go back to writing?

            There are, of course, those times when I have to build stronger than usual structures for my plan.  For instance, on this particular morning I could have shut myself up in my room with an announcement to beloveds:  Please do not disturb unless the house is on fire, and even then, do so at your own risk.  I could have told them I’m way behind where I hoped to be by this time, and I’m off to a coffee shop where no one knows my name, and by the way, don’t call me even if the house is on fire.

            I can turn off my phone, ignore the house phone and forget about e-mails and excellent writing tutorials.  Even if I only sit on the balcony with a cup of tea (wasn’t that in my plan?  If not, it should have been) and read Georgette Heyer (it’s writing training) or do nothing at all (wasn’t that in my plan?  If not, it should have been) it’s a step in my life dance, made more rhythmic and interesting via being unplanned.

            However . . . if these feelings of frustration and desperation become commonplace, and there’s no use trying to put any spin on it besides pure aggravation and defeat, I know it’s time to take a thing or two off the table.  Literally, in my case.  It’s time to back off of some of the cooking.  It’s time to do what makes me more creative, simple things such as making the bed and taking a walk–and to stop trying to be Doer of All Things.  It’s time for more time with the Author and Finisher of my Faith, the Giver of Grace–unforced rhythms of grace. 

            Because for me, it really is all about family.  And they (especially my beau) only need me to be happy—in a  state of grace.  Amen. 

What is this Burden?

            Real men don’t whine–John qualifies.  But when the burdens get heavy, unless I’m too wrapped up in my own self, I can sense things are amiss.  Then, contrary to popular opinion, it’s not time for advice, thinly veiled criticism, or even getting mad on his behalf at whoever or whatever is causing him grief. 

            It’s time, rather, to just be a bit closer and softer, a little nicer and kinder, and stay tuned.             

Women Often Lament . . .

            Women often lament about things that just aren’t so.  Homemakers, for instance, in thinking that their husbands have all the fun “going off” to work while they’re “stuck at home,” are buying lies heaped upon lies.  There is very little fun about making a living as done by most men.  Most men quietly answer to endless aggravations and often ulcer-producing work situations.  There are unreasonable and demanding bosses, office politics, senseless rules and regulations, intolerable co-workers, thankless and creativity-killing tasks, mind-numbing commutes, and the sense that they’re little different than hampsters on a wheel, with no end in sight.

            On what mountain of insanity did women decide it would be better to have what men have?  Having worked as men work—as a carpenter’s helper growing up and later for John in a similar capacity, I can tell you women’s work is not harder.  It’s just different, and thank God for that!

            Am I being “old fashioned” and setting women back a century?  No.  But I would like to set us back about 60 years, at least in some areas.  How lovely to have the time of day, presence of mind, order, freedom from endless distractions, and the energy for hospitality and family trips as did many of the women of my mom’s generation.        As I am not a fan of wishful thinking, I submit that we can have much of that again, by beginning to be honest about what’s in our hearts, and what we truly want (hint:  it’s not to be what we aren’t, which is men).

Another Lament

            Women often lament that their husbands don’t open up, won’t talk about things.  Some of that is because, as I said, real men don’t whine; some is because they just need to work through some things; some because they didn’t have such a good outcome the last time they opened up.

            It’s a challenge that must be met not to treat husbands as kids.  It doesn’t matter if they sometimes act quite similar.  They aren’t.  Another challenge is to remember who they are—fearfully and wonderfully made children of the Most High, and deserving of honor, consideration and respect, whether they act like it or not.

            We reap what we sow.

Suggested Reading:  Matthew 11:28-30, The Message.

Key to Victory:  Read aloud Luke 21:19 and pray it over yourself as a declaration.

Music:  Psalms sung by you.  I dare you—try it, I mean infused with your very own self, your very own love.