Always, a Bigger Plan Awaits

One of the women in our homeschool group has a tag at the end of each of her emails which reads, "There's always a bigger plan".  Reading it the other day, it struck me anew how true that is, and how cool, in a way, this statement (and it's reality) is.  When I tie this saying into a faith in God, the bigger plan leads me to hope, to the possibility in something good coming out of a trial of life, in the glimmer of positivity emerging from something that I wanted to happen not occurring, or some material thing that I thought I was going to recieve not ending up in my hands.  I have trouble sometimes finding a comfort in this idea; I fight with God a lot, kick and scream and shake fists in the air when I don't get my way.  At the end of the ranting and pleading and crying, however, when I finally arrive at  my tired, resigned place, a tiny bit of possibility can shine through the crack in that door I firmly (and loudly) slammed shut.  If I open the door a bit wider, brilliant rays of sunshine can pour through the portal, illuminating the situation, possibly carrying a bit of peace with it.

My Mom is frantic about the hurricane currently barrelling up the east cost.  Her email yesterday carried with it waves of anxiety which I could feel just the same as if I was standing in the room with her when she typed it.  Irene brushed by Florida yesterday like a Victorian lady in a hoop skirt, the hem of her lacey dress tickling our coast, bringing with her bands of rain and  pleasantly cool breezes.  Far from the catastrophe predicted by weather forecasters, the storm provided us a welcome break from summer's swelter, though the weekend is supposed to provide us with ridiculously high temperatures.  From what I've heard about Irene's entry into North Carolina, the Victorian lady is now under the throes of major PMS.  I fear that the results of her visit there will be more violent and a whole lot less welcome. I still hope to fly out tomorrow, but we're on a "wait and see" basis.  I have to believe somehow that if Sparkle Fairy and I don't board that aircraft tomorrow then we weren't meant to be on it, that maybe there will be a reason for us to take another flight.  The tiniest moments can have the greatest of effects.  Who knows when we'll be called on to touch the life of another person, when us being in the right place at the right time will allow God to work through us, to allow us the beauty of doing his work?  Sometimes a shift in our plans might allow a bigger and better plan to emerge.

I was struck with an idea this morning so powerful that I dialed my husband up to tell him.  I feel strongly, in my gut, that we're supposed to go to North Carolina.  We've talked about this before, and fantasized about living there, but I always revert back to my desire to go home to Massachusetts.  Actually, that desire hasn't changed one bit.  Still, this morning, after my husband had very unhappily left our home to head to work at a job that daily heaps great mounds of stress upon his shoulders, saying that he wished he knew how to have a faith that would move mountains (or, in this case, just us), a gentle voice pierced the silence in my mind.  North Carolina.  There's a bigger plan.  Trust me.  I honestly have no idea what we would do to make money if we moved to North Carolina.  A recent conversation with a business associate revealed that land might still be purchased for a decent price there, and N and I have always said we'd build a log cabin home if the chance to live in or near the mountains ever presented itself.  Those too can be had at a reasonable cost. And, we have some family there; my cousin resides in North Carolina with his wife and their two small children.  When that thought broke through the sadness I felt over my husband's lamenting, the hows and whys didn't have much of an effect on me. I knew it was truth, down to my bones.

There's always a bigger plan. Wait and see. 

Grace in the Tempest

"He stilled the storm to a whisper;
the waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm,
and He guided them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the Lord for His
unfailing love
and His wonderous deeds for mankind."
Psalm 107:29-31

Irene will most likely be providing South Florida with lots of rain and wind later today into tomorrow.  Following that, she is expected to move upward toward North Carolina, making landfall on Saturday at some point.  As I have family and friends in North Carolina (though not living on the coast), my thoughts and prayers will be with them over the next few days.  As far as my own plans to fly to Massachusetts with Sparkle Fairy, we will have to wait and see what transpires.  My hope is that we can still travel as planned, but, whatever happens, I will have to accept the situation as it presents itself.   Earlier today I received correspondence from a friend in North Carolina who was concerned with plans her husband had made to fly up there for the weekend (he works here in Florida still) being waylaid, further reminding me that I'm not the only person around here who is being made uncomfortable by the hurricane.  The most important concern for all of us is that we come out of this thing with everyone safe and sound.  Having a more reasonable perspective about the situation is a beautiful thing.

Last night I heard somebody say that God is good all the time, that He isn't the one who places stumbling blocks on our paths.  I agree with the first part, but lately I'm not so sure about the second.  I will stop short of stating that I think He creates terrors such as the Holocaust or 9/11; I believe those sorts of events are caused by damaged human beings caught in the grip of their own hatred and delusions, and I believe that God mourns alongside us when extreme horrors such as these occur.  Maybe, sometimes, He does gift us with challenges to our comfort and sense of well being, though.  Is it possible that He desires us to grow through such life events, that He wants us to turn to Him, to seek guidance while the storm is whipping our bodies about and we're desperate for even a glimmer of peace?  Since two months ago, when I was suddenly struck with a mad desire to pick up my Bible again and give the God of monotheism another try (I honestly cannot say what brought this change about, as I was happily trudging down the road of Paganism and enjoying the sights prior to suddenly being struck by a spiritual bolt of lightning) I've searched for answers from the Word whenever trouble has reared its ugly head.  What I've discovered is that, in these moments of sorrow and discomfort, I search with a greater gusto for words that will provide a balm, for guidance that will allow me to grow through the storms, for growth that will make me a better person.  Just over the past two days, I've discovered how self centered I can be, and I was fairly horrified at my own ranting and raving.  By last night, I was quite embarrassed at the Facebook posts I wrote lamenting about how much I don't want to be in Florida.  While I really do have a deep desire to move home, I feel these posts to be more fitting for a teenager than a grown woman.  That said, I've met teenagers who handle adversity better than I have over the past two days.  When serious changes need to be created in our lives, one must see the possibility in these alterations being made manifest and then begin to take positive action.  Nothing was ever changed by belly-aching to everyone who will listen.  In fact, though a bit of complaining might provide us with fresh insights and ideas from those willing to take us on in our moments of darkness, excessive moaning usually serves to discourage us further.  Indeed, I'd begun to sink myself the other day.  It was only when I looked up searching for the light that I was able to swim out of the depth of depression I'd begun to create for myself.  I'm quickly tired when flailing about in the sea of despair.  The difference between now and a few weeks ago is that  I refuse to let myself drown when there's a hand willing to pull me out. 

And THAT is grace in the tempest. 

At around 3:00 pm today, I breathed a semi sigh of relief, having learned that South Florida is no longer positioned within the infamous cone of destruction. I write "semi" sigh because Irene is still working her blustery way through the Bahamas and up the east coast. Since Sparkle Girl and I are flying in that direction on Saturday, I'm still not entirely in a position to feel comfortable.

Additionally, once I got over my own sense of an improved situation, I realized that the Bahamas are still in a situation of danger. A knot of shame began to bounce around in my gut; I've been ranting about my travel plans being disturbed, but there are people out there who have major upset to deal with, the kind that brings uprooted trees, flooded roads, roofs peeled back like the tinny tops of sardine cans. I have experienced these conditions and they are neither fun to live through nor are they fun to clean up after.

Tonight, my prayers will be with the Bahamas. I'm not going to say I'm not happy that our chances of traveling on Saturday have improved, but I do have an incredible sense of my own ability to take a situation and look at it only as it pertains to me.

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No, Irene

Okay, so anyone who has happened to notice the Twitter feed to the right of  here will be well aware of my displeasure over the past couple of days with regard to living in Florida and possibly having to endure yet another hurricane or tropical storm.  Scrolling over my writing, I realize that I sound bitter, which was not my intention, though I certainly felt rankled this morning after watching the news.  I've lived here in Florida for many years now, and moved here when I was young enough to have had dramatically different hobbies, hopes and dreams than the ones I entertain now in my more (ahem) mature years,  Not that I'm THAT mature, just more so than when I first arrived in what the locals like to call "South New York".    Upon arrival here, my likes tended toward running around on the beach, clubbing, hanging out at tattoo parlors, and other such pursuits.  Nowadays, I'm a happily married mommy, sun allergies keep me away from the beach for most of the year, I very much dislike loud music and crowded places, I don't have the money for tattoos (and am not inclined to have any more of my skin decorated anyway), and my wildest dreams have me scrambling up mountainsides and hiking through old forests (the first of which I will not  find here in South Florida, though we do have some beautiful parks tucked into various locations, and I've at least had the chance to wander around below the cover of breathtakingly gorgeous live oaks, moss dripping from wildy twisting arms). 

These days, my heart and soul long for my northern home.  I have a young child who barely knows her family (neither I nor my husband have family here), and as I grow older I'm much more aware of the fact that everyone else is growing older as well.  Time seems so much more precious now than it did many years ago, when the clock moved more slowly and my days weren't punctuated by moments I wish I could share with those of my own blood.  I've been making due with yearly visits home (and I'm grateful beyond words that I've been gifted with these trips), but even two weeks of visiting never seems to be enough.  Inevitably, I leave without having seen someone with whom I wanted to spend time, as well as incurably and deeply sad that the trip is over and that, once again, I have to leave the place where I now feel most at home to travel southward again.  Blessedly, at the end of my daughter's and my journey is my husband and our crew of happy animals, so at least there is something wonderful to look forward to, and it does provide a bit of a balm to my mournful spirit. 

Now, just before the wee one and I are about to embark on our northward journey, a storm is swirling out over the Atlantic. Actually, it's been swirling over Puerto Rico; I'm not sure where it's exact location is as I write.  Weather forecasters are predicting that the lovely Irene will strengthen to a category 3 hurricane (not good) but are unsure which trajectory it will take.  The best case scenario has it traveling over the ocean but still dumping lots of rain on us and tearing up our yards with gale force winds (just when our bougainvillea are beginning to bloom and grow lush).  The worst case-well, we won't get into that. Suffice to say the worst case scenario will not be like an autumn walk through Disney World.  Now, all there is to do is wait and prepare. I'm trying to refrain from further ranting and pleading with God; this morning's raving was enough to last me for quite some time, and I don't believe my poor husband will take any more without firing back a few expletives of his own.  Even the dog ran into hiding in the early hours of our day for want of peace from my tirade. 

As the day moved forward, I tried to focus on the idea that God has a plan, and that we'll leave for MA when we're supposed to get on that airplane.  I made sure that positive music flowed through the speakers of the computer while I worked, and echoed off the tiles in the bathroom while I showered.  I read my morning devotionals searching for answers and paged through the inspirational daily writings which arrive in my email inbox each day.  These tools did help; if I'm not happy about the possibility of a hurricane screwing up our travel plans (and trashing our yard, and possibly damaging our house) I'm at least not walking around the house with tears in my eyes.  My perspective has vastly improved, even if I'm not happy about this recent turn of events.  I'm aware that, in the general scheme of things, I'm very very blessed to be in the situation of life in which I find myself (storm aside).  I still am possessed of a longing for home, but I'm also enjoying what is going on in front of me right now.  And if nothing enjoyable is going on, then I'm at least trying to be fully present, and to have some faith. 


Recently, I read that the opposite of faith is mistrust.  If I'm trusting in God, then I shouldn't be filled with fear and a lack of faith.  In the past, I've had serious trust issues with the God of my youth and only recently have been dipping my toe back into the variably flowing waters of that religion.  It feels good, though.  I'm finding a measure of comfort in the readings and fellowship, in the sermons and in the connection I feel to Him.  It's been nice, so far.  Very very nice. I wonder if maybe this is just another test of faith, and if I'll pass or fail it.  I have felt, over the past month or so, a sense of not being alone, of being bolstered by a strength I didn't have before.  Sometimes I will make a decision and feel as though I didn't come to that conclusion on my own, because left to my own devices I would have dug in  my heels and been miserable out of pure stubbornness.  I feel like there's something to this faith stuff. 

But I still want Irene to stay away. 

Keeping an Inner Peace

It was 5:45pm and I was rushing my daughter to finish eating her hot dog and brocolli, the quickest meal I could make and still leave the house in reasonable time to make church at 6:30. As I woofed my own meal down, I tried not to get frustrated as I watched her savor over every bite, push her silverware from side to side next to her pretty melamine plate. At a little to late past 6:00, we were on the road and on our way. Everything was going great. And then we got to the exit. Traffic was backed up onto the highway-not a good sign, even at the tail end of rush hour.

As we crawled down the exit and, finally, made our way to the road which leads to the church, it became apparent that something was amiss. As I listened to the radio, the service in question began to broadcast and my anxiety increased. Here we were, so close, and yet something was keeping us from getting from here to there, and the radio broadcast a service I longed to be a part of. As well, my girl had been looking forward to taking part in the kids' program again. This routine is still new for us, but it feels good, like taking positive steps to join in a spiritual community and partake of a valuable message. Like listening and feeling the vibe and making an effort to say,"Yes, I want to hang out with you and your people, God."

As it turned out, the gates at the railroad tracks were stuck into place; no one was getting past them. Adding to my frustration was the fact that the police officers who had been sent to the scene were making no effort to direct us toward a solution, other than to abandon plans. Reluctantly, I drove ahead back to the highway and home. I though once to take a different exit, but traffic at that exit was jammed up, and by this time the clock had meandered to 7. I turned up the radio and listened to the pastor as we drove home, my little one crying in the back seat.

Earlier in the evening, my neighbor and I were talking about how sometimes God, for reasons unknown and sometimes quite vexing to us, makes the path He wants us to take difficult for us to embark upon. Even though we feel in our very bones that we're on the right path, things are being thrown in our way, blocking that path, making that path downright uncomfortable to be on. I think that sometimes God does this sort of thing to test us, and if we recognize these tests they can lead us to growth and even to a greater appreciation when we finally acheive what we've set out to do.

For me, I believe this test was related to something I've been trying to teach our daughter. Lately I've been noticing that she has great difficulty dealing with situations when they don't go the way she'd like them to. Fists clenched tight, she shakes her way through such situations, eyes squeezing out years. I've been working on this with her, this learning of coping skills, but isn't the best lesson taught by watching someone else "do"? I tell her that when something doesn't go according to our plan, we need to let go of the expectation and try to rework our plans into what is still possible. Tonight, I had a choice. I wish I could say that I passed this test without complaint, but I did not. What I did do, was turn up the radio, listen to the Pastor, enjoy the sermon as my little car sped back down the highway. When we got home, I turned on the lap top and watched the live video, speaking words of gratefulness that this option is available at all. It wasn't as dynamic as sitting, singing, swaying in the sanctuary, but it was what I could do. And it was still good.




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