redeemed

A couple's shower for my brother and his bride-to-be.

I had planned it out so well.

I would greet my guests at the door, escort them through the living room to deposit their gifts for the bride and groom on the coffee table, and then out the back door onto the porch to pick up a plate of appetizers and a drink. We would stand around, visiting and laughing, in the backyard that overlooks the neighborhood lake, surrounded by the flickering flames of the tiki torches.

We would sit down to dine at round tables conducive to conversation, and enjoy a feast of the best dolmades, hummus, and spanikopita in town, while making new friends and hearing stories about our couple of honor.

All of my ducks were in a row: my RSVP list was checked and double checked, the food was ordered, the house sparkling clean, rented tables and chairs delivered and set up, decorations ready to be set out, the present wrapped, childcare arranged.

And then it rained.

And then it poured.

And then it stormed.

No rain, not even a drop, in our part of town since April. And it rained on my day.

My ONE day to plan an outdoor party.

MY. ONE. DAY.

It rained.

And I cried.

And it came down in sheets.

And I moaned.

And the back yard became little islands amid pools of water and mud and mire.

And I cried some more and ate some chocolate.

I was stopped dead in my fast-moving, check-everything-off-my-list pace. I had no idea what to do next.

I didn't have plans for a mess.

And then my parents arrived and took over. They rearranged, moved, changed, flexed, and bent my plans to save my party from destruction.

And I breathed a sigh of relief and thanks as I got myself back on track with the list checking, all the while chiding myself for panicking; for not seeing the solution as easily as they did.

And the night went on, not as I had planned. Actually, truth be known, it was better than I could have imagined. It was...

more personal,


more beautiful,

more intimate,

more meaningful.

And isn't that always the way it is with Him?

We go through life with plans and ideas of how it's all going to be, how it will all turn out.

We construct our plans and set goals to accomplish them.

We march down our check list of things to do and we rate ourselves by how much we have checked off that list.

And then, in the midst of our list checking, it rains and it pours and it storms.

And our list checking is halted, and we are forced to change, to move, to bend, to rearrange, to flex.

And we wonder how are we ever going to make something out of this mess; out of this mud pit created by a downpour of sorrow.

And then He's there, and He shows us in our blindness the way to bend, flex, and change.

He gives us the plans for our rearrangement and asks us to move. And He promises to walk with us along the way.

Sometimes we do so readily. Others, more stubbornly. Even more, not at all.

But if we do move according to His leading, if we draw closer to Him during our storm, at any point in that storm, we find that our life has become...

more beautiful,

more personal,

more intimate,

and more meaningful than we could ever have imagined.

And as I have reflected on that night over the last month, I have come to see the lesson He had me live through that storm and change of plans.

My plan...a good plan, but flawed and subject to destruction.

His plan...a good and perfect plan, though I must often come to it via the pit of mud and mire;

His plan...not easily seen or understood, but if I follow by faith, understanding comes.

His plan...not always in my timing, but always on time.

His plan...one that redeems my destruction.

He redeemed my soul from going down to the pit, and I will live to enjoy the light. Job 33:28