I’m a planner, y’all.

And when the day doesn’t go according to plan, things get ugly.

We scheduled some time with friends tonight. Well, we thought we did, but we didn’t ask for RSVPs. And no one else showed up. Sigh. Guess how I felt.

Loser.
Loser.

Since we already had a babysitter, the husband and I took the opportunity for a quick date. Honestly, though, it took me most of the date to stop feeling pitiful about the cancelled plans.

By my melancholy attitude, you wouldn’t have guessed that I had spent the morning hanging out with some awesome mom friends while our kids splashed in sprinklers. Or that I really needed the unexpected, relaxed time out with my spouse tonight.

Lately I’ve been trying to let go and let God, so to speak. Let go of the results, let go of events, and take comfort that nothing happens in this world by mistake.

Truly, though, my version of surrender looks like giving God some options. Just like I let my kids pick which clothes they wear, I tell God that option A, B, or C is fine with me. And when Option 2,346 is what crops up, I’m like, “What? THAT was the plan?”

And I sulk. And I try to salvage the broken pieces of my control mirage off the floor, gluing them back together into a new plan.

I don’t like not knowing. I don’t like surprises. And sometimes, God’s plan hurts a tiny bit. Or a whole lot.