Sounds Like a Plan

I like to think of myself as a planner, since I operate best when I can have things laid out before me. But, in truth, I don’t plan so much as I actively look for and affirm interesting opportunities to present themselves. The plans come after the fact—based on what I can envision around the next curve in the road.

This paradoxical combination of creative calculation and reliance on faith—not blind faith, but faith that peeks through its fingers at the possibilities that lie ahead—has worked well for me.

Until recently.

For the past few weeks, the future I’ve seen and the plans I’ve laid have ended up in a multi-car pile-up. A job that seemed meant for me dissolved before I could claim it. The book proposal that generated so much excitement is still waiting for a publisher to claim it. When a potentially career-changing writing gig fell through, it wasn’t a simple matter of that magazine’s editor not liking my story idea. The whole magazine folded. How’s that for having a door slam on your foot?

And that’s just the work-related stuff. All around me—in my home, in my relationship, with my child—things are breaking down, springing leaks, sputtering, fizzling and wobbling unsteadily. My life is, as we say in the vernacular, a hot mess.

I don’t know whether to blame the ineffectiveness of my planning or the astigmatism of my faith. I tell myself that if I had planned more effectively, maybe my life would be on more solid footing. Or if my faith were less blurred, maybe the need for solid footing would be moot: I’d be flying on wings.

But maybe not.

Maybe blame, with its negative implications and guilt association, is unnecessary, because maybe what I am experiencing is just the dip and dive of life. Maybe this is me falling free of a plane I’ve been pushed out of, dropping from the sky toward the open arms of earth and feeling the fierce pull of gravity in the long moments before my parachute opens. (At least I still have enough faith to believe the parachute will open.)

Today in the mail, I got a little postcard that says: “We affirm that divine order is at work and that Spirit is guiding us each step along the way.”

Maybe all this is just part of the plan.

Making Plans

I’ve asked and asked and asked: What is our mission? What are our plans? What are we going to do together? What does our Big Picture look like?

And I haven’t, for the life of me, been able to get a clear answer from my husband.

I don’t know if he can’t answer. If he won’t answer. Do the questions offend him? Are they too esoteric? Do they just seem silly? Is he just the type of person who wants to flow wherever life takes him? Is he a “let go and let God” guy who believes that you don’t have to plan at all? Does he think planning is futile? Unnecessary? Ineffective? I don’t quite know what be believes. And has been driving me crazy.

Eventually I started thinking, “Ef it! If he won’t talk about a plan for our life, then I’ll just start making plans of my own.” I began to throw myself into creating long-range plans and short-term schedules. I started fleshing out ideas that I’ve had, putting some meat on those dreams. Getting organized. Getting disciplined. Getting ready to roll.

It has bothered me to set goals that don’t include him, but I've felt t like I have no choice. The call to get moving is very strong, but I’m the kind of person who can’t press the gas without some directions, a map, a destination in mind. I need a plan for my life. I'm going to have a plan for my life. Period.

And then the revelation came.

Maybe that was the point: For me to do it for myself. It's my life, after all. I know myself well enough to know that if he had responded to my queries about his dreams and goals, I would have thrown myself wholeheartedly into his vision for our future. Because the reality is that I didn’t have a clear vision of my own aspirations. I had reached my previously set career goals (The NY magazine job). I had spent the past few years catching up on my personal goals (Marriage? Check. Child? Check. House? Check.). Now what? I had no idea.

That’s why I was pushing so hard for us to talk about it. I was hoping that he would help get me motivated or that we would motivate one another. In the end, not having a response from him ignited a fine-then-I’ll-show-YOU attitude that fired me up to get off my ass and start to think about the life I want.

To be honest, I’m still not absolutely clear on where I want my life to go. (Hmm, could that be why Said Husband has been so closed-lipped? He doesn’t quite know the answer to the questions I’ve been asking?) But I know some things I want in place. I know how I want my life to feel. I know I can find the ways and means. How, exactly, will it come together? I don’t quite know. But I’m working on a plan.

Making Plans

I’ve begged and pleaded. I’ve asked over dinner. I’ve asked in e-mail. I’ve written letters.

What is our mission? What are our plans? What are we going to do together?

And I can’t, for the life of me, get an answer from my husband.

I don’t know if he can’t answer. If he won’t answer. Do the questions offend him? Do they just seem silly? Is he just the type of person that wants life to flow and take him along with it? Is he a “let go and let God” guy who believes that means you don’t have to plan at all? I don’t know what be believes. And it drives me crazy. It is a the crux of our relationship issues right now because his refusal to respond has left me wondering if he even has any aspirations for himself or his family. And, frankly, I don’t know how well I can deal with a person who doesn’t. But I can’t really make a decision about what I’ll deal with or won’t, because I don’t know what is going on in his ever-lovin’ head.

Finally, I just started thinking, “Ef it! If he won’t get a plan for his life, then I’ll just start making plans of my own.” Lately, I’ve thrown myself into creating long-range plans and short-term schedules. I’ve been fleshing out ideas that I’ve had, putting some meat on those dreams. Getting organized. Getting disciplined. Getting ready to roll.

It bothers me to set goals that don’t take him into consideration, but I feel like I have no choice. The call to get moving is very strong, and I’m the kind of person who can’t press the gas without some directions, a map, a destination in mind. I need a plan for my life. I'm going to have a plan for my life. Period.

And then the revelation came.

Maybe that was the point: For me to do it for myself. It's my life, after all. I know myself well enough to know that if he had responded to my queries about his dreams and goals, I would have thrown myself wholeheartedly into his vision for our future. Because the reality is, that I didn’t have a clear vision of my own aspirations. I had reached my previously set career goals (The cushy NY job). I had spent the past few years catching up on my personal goals (Marriage? Check. Child? Check. House? Check.). Now what? I had no idea what was next.

That’s why I was pushing so hard for us to talk about it. I was hoping that he would help get me motivated or that we would motivate one another. In the end, his inability (or stubborn refusal or whatever it was) to talk about it ignited a fine-then-I’ll-show-YOU attitude that fired me up to get off my ass and start to plan the life I want. As my girl Rox says, “I ain’t saying it’s right and I ain’t saying it’s healthy” but it certainly is helping to the job done.

To be honest, I’m still not absolutely clear on where I want my life to go. (Hmm, could that be why Said Husband has been so closed-lipped? He doesn’t quite know the answer to the questions I’ve been asking?) But I know some things I want in place. I know how I want my life to feel. I know I can find the ways and means. How, exactly, will it come together? I don’t quite know. But I’m working on it.