This Isn’t What I Had Planned

If 2020 has taught me anything, it’s that things rarely go as planned. I had big plans for my 40th year. “Had” being the operative word in that sentence. COVID came along and wrecked them all. Every. Last. One.

I started buying 2020 concert tickets back in September of 2019. Our concert season was going to kick off with the Shinedown Deep Dive Tour in Greensboro, NC in April and wrap up with Brooks & Dunn in September. “Was” being the operative word in that sentence. How’s the saying go? The best laid plans…

A few years back, I said I wanted to celebrate my 40th birthday in my own house. I didn’t want to stay home, I just planned to finally be a homeowner by the time I turned the big 4-0. Needless to say, that didn’t happen either. Granted, I own the mobile home we live in, but it’s in a park and someone else still gets the final say on what we can and cannot do to OUR home.

I thought by the time my kids turned sixteen, I would have saved enough money to buy them a car. Nothing fancy, and not all that new, but something safe and dependable. As my mom would say, something “warmer, faster, and drier than walking.” Here we are two months away from them taking their driving test, and I can’t even get them a Power Wheels.

We haven’t been on an actual vacation since 2007. When I filed my tax return in February, I had every intention of using my return to finally get us back to St. Pete Beach as a family. Once again, COVID had other plans. A week on the Gulf of Mexico isn’t cheap, and I’m in no position to risk that kind of investment in these uncertain times.

There’s a whole list of other things that aren’t at all what I had planned. At least once a week I’ll utter the words “this wasn’t supposed to happen.” My therapist doesn’t like it when I “should” myself. I’m working on it. It isn’t easy.

This past Sunday, my church had a pastoral candidate come in to preach. We’ve been without a pastor for way too long. Our PNC had worked diligently for much longer than they ever thought they’d have to when they agreed to take on the task of finding out new shepherd.

Before the service started, I turned to my mom and told her how I longed to feel like I belonged in church again. I started going on the first Sunday of Advent last year. It was Christmas gift for my mom. She had mentioned before how she’d sit in the back of the church and see all the families sitting together and wishing that she could experience that as well. I kept going because it made her so happy to have both my sister and I in the pew next to her. I was really just going through the motions. I wasn’t feeling it.

All that changed on Sunday. As the pastoral candidate began the Children’s Sermon, something unexpected happened. I can’t even describe it other than to say it was an explosion in my soul. My eyes filled with tears of joy and my heart swelled with love. In that moment, I felt at home. When the service was over, a congregational meeting was called to vote on the candidate becoming our new pastor. It was a unanimous, resounding “YES!” As the church emptied out, I sat in the pew staring at the picture of Jesus on the wall beside me, tears rolling down my cheeks. Joyous songs I’d learned at Pine Springs Camp nearly thirty years ago came flooding back. I sat alone and prayed. I grabbed my phone to let all of Facebook know the joy I felt. Praise Jesus, hallelujah!

This isn’t what I had planned. Much of what we’ve experienced this year “wasn’t supposed to happen.” The truth is, it’s not my job to plan. It’s hard for me not to be in control, but I’m trying. I’m learning to appreciate that things don’t have to be what I anticipated. I’m trying my best to learn to live in the present and to let go of what “should be.”

I bought a planner for 2020. Most useless purchase. I think maybe for 2021 I’ll buy a journal instead. I want to try taking each adventure as it comes. Bring on the future. It’s looking bright. 😎