A few days ago, I was having a funky morning. Each day, I create a loose plan to follow. Once I get into something, I can usually stay there. But I struggle with transition times. When one activity ends, I tend to waffle about starting the next thing that I intended to do.
Suffice it to say that day, I compulsively did other things to rebel against the plan, didn’t do what I had determined needed to be done, and got frustrated with myself about this pattern I see too often. Then comes the shame. How did I “blow” a whole morning, not doing nearly anything I had hoped to do?
I had talked myself out of walking early that day because it was extra cold, but by mid-morning, it was sunny and in the fifties. Since taking a walk is one of the best ways I know to reset myself and my day, I decided that was the best use of the time remaining, before an afternoon appointment.
Halfway down the street, I suddenly heard strange birdsong overhead. It was so loud and unusual that at times, I thought someone was trying to play a trick on me. I kept looking up into the sky and my neighbors’ trees, but saw nothing.
Suddenly I looked up again and there was a huge flock of geese flying over me. They were trilling together, which is the best way I can describe the sound. It was as if they were rolling their tongues as they sang. It wasn’t their typical honking.
Some in unison, others in a v-formation, the geese were floating through the sky like choreographed swimmers or dancers. Singing their hearts out, they moved left then right, simultaneously flying in circles—artistically maneuvering their field of blue.
As they executed their seamless choreography, I was captivated and delighted. This happened for a couple of minutes and then the show was over and they were gone.
Two life lessons jumped out at me. First, I immediately asked, God, did you do that for me? Did you do that to delight me, since I’ve had such a funky morning?
I was inspired to write about how faith is a choice. If faith was based on facts, it wouldn’t be faith, it would be fact. Believing in facts doesn’t require any stretch of the imagination.
Practicing faith isn’t as easy, but for me, it’s a choice. I choose to believe that God would do, and does do, random things to delight me.
I wasn’t supposed to be walking mid-morning when that happened. How unbelievably random was it for me to have a beautiful experience that morning with the geese? When I think about the timing of that, it blows me away. I had to be right on time (in other words, off-kilter in my morning schedule), and the geese had to be right on time.
I could have chalked it off to random coincidence, but it feels so much better to choose to believe that moment of time was designed intentionally for me, on a morning when I needed uplifting.
And now the bigger lesson. I believe God was showing me how I do things. I may start out with a plan or a daily “destination,” but soon I find myself dancing this way and then circling back a little that way. I step and twirl in one direction and then float back in the opposite direction. But I always get where I’m going, where I need to go. It may take me a little longer and I may have a couple of wild goose chases along the way, but I get there.
Do any of you struggle following a plan without deviation? Do you approach your day loosely enough to allow creativity and play to show up alongside intention? Maybe we aren’t being “compulsive” in a bad way, but rather, spontaneously creative in our approach to our days, our lives?
Much of my existence is left brain and logical, full of lists and expectations for how things need to happen, with intense analysis about the most efficient way. (Any other type A's out there?)
Perhaps on the days where I seem to be floating around this way and that, I could just embrace the creative way I go about some of my days, trusting that everything of real importance will get done when it needs to get done.
I don’t have to understand my own resistance to following a plan, but I can trust that I am right on time. I can trust that my 10:30 AM walk that day, when I should have been in the studio painting, was right on time. In fact, not only was it right on time, it was provisional, purposeful, and perspective-changing.
The stuckness did not feel good prior to my walk, but now it doesn’t matter. I choose to believe, I have faith that my haphazard morning was no accident. Not only was it not a bad thing, it was a good thing. It led me to capturing a unique sound and sight meant to delight me. And I get to share that with you!
Where are you feeling lost? Where are you feeling stuck? It may feel like anything but a gift in this moment, but what if you acknowledged the stuckness and choose to believe, to have faith, that a gift will come out of it, that a gift is actually being designed for you in the middle of it?
Although I temporarily forgot, today I am newly reminded that when life gets hard, we need to start looking for the gifts. There are always gifts! In hard times especially, there are provisional gifts.
Take a moment to say thanks right now, in advance, for all the gifts that are lining up to bless you, to encourage and inspire you. The more we look, the more we find.
