The idea was that every morning, I was going to start my day afresh with writing. I would get up early, catch a few newsy reads and then start writing between sips of mellow coffee while the world wakes up. And then, with satisfying words on screen, I could launch my day feeling meditated, insightful and pumped for the day.
But that hasn’t exactly gone to plan.
And what’s weirder, really, is that I used to prefer to write at night. It was in the evening that my mind was always so awake and so introspective. With the day’s work done, my mind would be so free. However, these days I’m so tired by the time the evening rolls around, I pretty much fail into bed. That’s right – fail.
So the last thing I really want to do is try to write before bedtime. Because by then any surviving mellow, insightful brain cells have already passed out, leaving just the cranky ones. And frankly a few less than intelligent ones. “Yes mastah. Write a sentence. Let’s see: A…….. S……. e…… n……. t…….” (In your best obedient zombie voice, btw.)
So tonight, while I was feeling cranky about my unexpected day of emergencies, it dawned on me that there are an awful lot of things in my life that haven’t gone according to plan.
I mean, I never set out to make a name for myself in crochet, for instance. And I never could have imagined a job like social media management. I mean, how could I? I was supposed to be Dr. Meek who specialized in the Medieval period of music and literature and taught a mean music theory class, with maybe a minor in astronomy. And who performed on the side and repaired pianos, because it’s weird that there aren’t more pianists who know something about repairing their own instruments. I never thought about making money with computers. Or that anyone would ever care about the way I look at crochet.
I expected my first vehicle to be a little pickup truck, not a motorcycle. A motorcycle was not in the plan. And yet, the experiences that first bike and I had were life altering. Including the time she ran out of gas at 2am on Texas Hwy 80, with not an open gas station around for miles. And the time two drunks tried to ram my bike from behind with their truck. Not to mention the pity and help I received from some wonderful mechanics. Or the impressionable young kids from that Methodist church nursery I worked at, who watched me ride into the parking lot every Sunday to come and help in the nursery.
I moved to Austin to study Music Business and piano tuning. And instead got married and had my first child. I worked myself to death in high school and college only to find out not too many people cared and that it didn’t give me any edges in the real world.
We bought a cute little house with the plan to stay there only 2-3 years. Instead unplanned repairs turned up and we stayed 15.
Before marriage there were no plans for military service. And then 9/11 came. And before I knew it, I was a military guard wife with a husband overseas.
I didn’t plan to fall down the stairs, and look where that landed me. (ha)
But the thing is, there are some amazing things that happened, but weren’t according to plan. And maybe the purpose of my plans shouldn’t have been objects or goals all along. Because it seems to me that my planning still did something for me, but just not in the way I expected.
Having a motorcycle taught me to be more aware and a better driver under even strange situations. Being a military wife put me in situations I would never choose, but that showed me my strength and made me appreciate the plight of widowed parents even more. And crochet? It’s brought me into the circles of more amazing people and adventures than I could have ever guessed possible.
And I think, that all this has helped show me that planning for ideal pictures of life doesn’t really work. Instead, we should train and be ready for a journey.