As a clinician, when my clients say “This wasn’t the plan”, I nod empathetically. I listen. I let them explain. I hear the frustration, the disappointment, the anxiety, the confusion, exhaustion, hurt. I listen to the age, the past, the timeline. I listen to the expectation, hope, and the undoing of dreams and hopes, the shattering of broken promises.
When I start to say those words, “This wasn’t the plan,” tears start to well up, a lump in my throat battles my will to shove it back down, past my gut, my knees, and right out of pinky toes. I take deep breaths. I boil water in the kettle and go for the mug in my cabinet that rivals a venti drink at Starbucks. I choose the lavender or the chamomile tea, and I wait. And I remember.
I remember the first time my plan fell apart. I remember the subsequent plans, the plans that ran through alphabetical letter assignment several times over, and how they too either demanded alterations or complete abandonment. I remember how I am alright. Plans that did not work out, I am alright. Relationships that did not work out, I am alright. Jobs tat did not work out, I am alright. Grace has made sure that I am alright.
When our plans prove inefficient grace reminds us of just how sufficient it is. When we’ve given lots of tries and lots of cries, grace in all its wisdom and patience joins us, comforts us, and refines our vision so that we can see in the midst of nothing is right, we are alright.
When our inner three year old tugs on our entire being to be let loose, to wail at how unfair, to be compensated for the energy it took to hope, grace doesn’t flinch. It compassionately whispers “I’ll wait.” Mhmm, grace waits for us because grace knows we may hurt, but we are not harmed. In fact it knows that had that plan come to fruition we would have been harmed.
As I left my dentist appointment that I rescheduled because they were running over thirty minutes behind, there was a little girl not more than three years old in the elevator with me. She pulled her grandmother’s arm and said “But Mom-Mom, it hurts,” and pointed to her knee. “You’re okay. I am sure it hurts, but there’s no blood, the skin didn’t break, and it’s not so red anymore. If you want, I can beat the ground up when we leave,” the woman responded. The little girl nodded.
Grace holds us, acknowledges the hurt, and at the same time acknowledges all that did not happen to us as a way to reassure us we really are okay. Grace sticks up for us. It fights battles we think we lost, battles we don’t think we can face, battles that in the past have hurt us, battles on the horizon that mimic past losses and send us running for the hills.
Sitting in this sweet little coffee shop adjacent to one of the city’s most beautiful parks post dentist appointment gone awry was not my plan. Having to reschedule my dentist appointment was not the plan. Running into a guy that I just would rather not have, also not the plan.
You know what else wasn’t the plan? Starting Grit + Grace. Not the practice, the website, the shoppable goods for good, this blog post. Not.The. Plan. Having the privilege of supporting girls and women in their process of healing and recovery- not the plan. Yet here I am, and I am actually more than alright.
My hope for you is that when the words “This wasn’t the plan” attempt to serenade you or send you spiraling that you remember. May you remember all of the plans that didn’t go as planned and that you are alright. That you remember it may sting or hurt but you are not harmed. That you remember grace remains sufficient when life wants to play you an inefficient lowlight reel. That you consider just for a moment the plan wasn’t the best for you in that time and space, no matter how logical or lovely it seemed. May your heart be stilled by knowing God in all of His goodness and graciousness, is so committed to the plan for you- to give you a future and a hope, not to harm you….even if your plans right now hurt. You’re alright beloved. You’re alright.
With Love,
Grit + Grace